Boom Headshot
by Miss Aeris
Summary: Meet the Scout; the latest addition to the mysterious 'RED' organisation. A cocky, yet often naïve, kid from Boston, who's going to learn the hard way about war, love and everything in between. Scout/Sniper. Rated M for strong language, violence and adult themes from the start.
1. Chapter 1  'Meet The Scout'

**Author's Note:**

Firstly, I don't have permission to get into the imaginary heads of these characters and the world they live in, so all I can do is hope that Valve, Steam, TF2 and all its creators don't have a problem with it! (If they do, this'll be taken down in a flash!)

Secondly, although this is a story which revolves around a relationship between the Scout and the Sniper, this is not going to be one of those horribly mushy yaoi fics where the guys' cheeks blush with burning desire every 5 seconds. Those kinds of fics really aren't my thing – they're not based on how the world works and it's my intention to keep things as realistic as possible! (Even in the TF2 world!)

Thirdly, I do have the whole story mapped out in my head, and (although it may take a while – I work full time) I do plan on finishing this! (I've always hated it when stories I was reading were uploaded a chapter at a time/as the writer was going, but now I see why it's done!)

Fourthly (I swear this is the last one), although I would really love and appreciate constructive comments on what you think/how I could do better, etc, I will not tolerate trolls for the sake of trolling. There's a place for that, and it's called 4chan! Go there to insult others and make yourself feel better if you really need to, but leave me out of it.

Finally, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - 'Meet The Scout'<strong>

"Meet the Scout."

_Shh! Ya crazy lady... I'm tryin' ta concentrate here!_

Another explosion hit, much nearer than the last.

"He is your new team-mate."

_Woah! Nice try, buddy... Take dis!_

Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

"He is here because your last Scout failed."

_...Failed, huh?.. What a chump. Dis is __**easy**__!_

"Hey, over there! He's got the intelligence! AFTER HIM!"

"He will be trained and will join you on the battlefield in exactly one week's time."

_Pfft... Wha'do I need trainin' for? I am __**ownin'**__ dese guys!.. Oh shi-! No! WAIT!_

Impact.

Then darkness.

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><p>"YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED. YOU HAVE FAILED." The harsh sound of the Announcer's voice rung through the training room, echoing off its invisible walls.<p>

The surroundings vanished, as a deafening alarm sounded and the Scout looked up to find himself back in the supply room.

"Aww, _fuck_, man! Dat wasn' even fair!" He spun around angrily, yelling at the upper left-hand corner of the sterile, grey room. "Dat guy appeared out of freakin' _no-where_!" He shouted to the tannoy on the wall.

"TODAY'S TRAINING HAS BEEN COMPLETED. RETURN TO BASE."

"Shit..." The Scout muttered to himself, turning away from the tannoy. He walked over to the only bench in the room and began picking up his things; a white towel, which he slung over his shoulder, a fake bat and a fake gun, both provided to him at the beginning of the session. He held the bat in his right hand and tucked the gun into the front of his trousers. He didn't worry about checking if the safety was on; it wasn't loaded. It wasn't even made of metal. He reckoned it was some kind of weighted silicone, or plastic, as it _was_ heavy enough to be a gun, but didn't quite feel right when he gripped it.

He left the supply room, which he still thought looked a lot like the communal changing rooms they'd had in his high school, and made his way down the corridor to the right, back to where everyone would be congregated for the evening.

_Pro'ly finished eatin' by now._ He thought, wondering briefly what the time was. Training seemed to have lasted a lot longer than usual today.

_Mus' be 'cause it's da last day..._ He mused to himself. _Maybe today was like... An assessment?_ He wondered, with a slight grimace. It wasn't a problem if he _had_ been assessed, he just wasn't sure if the last few minutes would have exactly gone in his favour. He'd gotten gradually more and more cocky and self-assured as the day had gone on, and had ended up letting himself get distracted. He hadn't even seen his final attacker until it was too late, causing him to not only be killed in the simulation, but also to fail the mission.

He winced at the thought, and suddenly realised that he was wringing his towel slightly with his free hand. Quickly letting it go, he dropped his hand to his side.

"Whatevah." He said out-loud to no-one, putting his now idle hand in his pocket. _I aced da rest of it, no question 'bout dat._

He turned a corner and, hearing voices suddenly, slowed down. Still so pumped full of adrenaline from the recent physical activity, it was difficult for him to stop his body from doing anything, even walking, but he didn't want to burst into the nearby room and announce to his team-mates that he'd finished his last day's training by being killed. He didn't know everyone that well yet, but he was sure such a failure would not be particularly well received.

As he got closer to the slightly ajar door where the voices were coming from, he strained his ears, trying to hear what was being said. He hoped it wasn't about him; he didn't want to make any enemies here. This was just a job to him, nothing more, nothing less. He didn't want to get messed up in any kind of "office politics".

He reached the door and stopped. Leaning forward slightly, he could hear a man with a loud Texan accent telling a story about what he assumed must have happened earlier in the day. The man was bragging about the amount of kills his "buildings" (or "stupid-freakin'-automated-guns" as the Scout called them) had got that day.

He remembered back to his previous day's training and how he'd been killed by one of the simulated Engineer's same automated guns. He'd been confident he'd had a clear run back to his base, with the other team's top secret intelligence under one arm, and his own trusty (yet not-real) bat in the other. He'd almost made it, but on the last stretch he'd been gunned down by a sentry, positioned up high where he'd had no chance of seeing it.

After re-materialising back in the supply room, he'd made it his mission to get his revenge on both the sentry and it's maker. He'd done so with the enemy Engineer, and done so well. He snickered quietly at the memory. He'd pounded the Engineer's face 'til his goggles had snapped off and flown past them both, landing somewhere several feet behind him. The sentry had already been destroyed by one of his back-up, simulated team-mates. He'd guessed the Demoman was responsible, being the bomb-expert that he was. He couldn't imagine the Medic causing so much damage with his "healing-gun", and they'd been the only other classes assigned to his team that day.

The Scout suddenly realised he was still hovering behind the door to the common room, and a seconds' more eavesdropping told him that the conversation had long since moved on from the Engineer's kill-streak bragging.

He breathed in deeply and pushed the door inwards. As he stepped into the room he quickly scanned it to see who was there. As far as he could see (and remember) everyone from his team appeared to be there. In the centre of the room were three men sitting round a table together, two of them drinking heartily and talking very loudly.

The first person he saw was his team's Soldier. They were, of course, _all_ hired mercenaries here, but this man seemed to have taken it upon himself to not only be the team's self-appointed leader (to which no-one but himself seemed to acknowledge) but also to give himself the title of a 'Soldier', as if they were all fighting in some epic war.

The Scout remembered speaking with the Demoman earlier in the week, one night when the others had all but gone to bed, and he was left alone with the rather large, but surprisingly friendly, Scot.

"I mean, I know we're fightin' agains' an enemy an' all, but would ya really call it a 'war'?" He'd asked, as he cracked open a bottle of beer he'd got from the base's kitchen earlier that evening.

"Aye. 'T can be, laddy." The one-eyed man had answered drunkenly, taking yet another swig of his home-made moonshine. "When ya think aboot it, tha's basically why we're all here." The Scout had smiled at that, then swigged his non-home-made American beer. He didn't know about the others, but he was here for the _money_, not a war.

As the Scout's attention returned to the room he was standing in, he realised that everyone had quietened down. Most eyes were on him now, or at least that's how it felt.

He glanced around nervously, trying to figure out why everyone was looking at him, without actually making eye contact with anyone.

In the corner of the room his saw the _extremely_ large and bald, heavy-set Russian man (the team's "Heavy Weapons Guy" or, just "Heavy" as everyone called him) and his comrade in arms; a disagreeable looking, black-haired German man (the team's questionably-trained "Medic", or "Doc" as the Scout had already nicknamed him, much to his annoyance).

In the centre of the room with the Soldier, who was still clad in his battle-gear, sat the 5-foot-something Texan he'd been listening to moments before (otherwise known as the "Engineer"). He was goggle-less and minus the dungarees the Scout was already used to seeing him in.

Opposite from him sat a much taller, actually rather lanky, Australian man, who had side-burns that could rival the X-Men's Wolverine. He was the team's Sniper. The Scout wasn't even sure if he'd heard him speak since he'd arrived almost a week ago, apart from to tell him what his job-classification was on the day he'd started.

Behind him he saw the team's "Pyro"; a man who carried a flame-thrower and wore a gas-mask at all times (so far, anyway). The Scout had yet to see his face, or even hear his voice properly, as it was always muffled by the mask.

Next to the Pyro was the team's Demolition Man (or "Demo", for short) who the Scout'd had the most interactions with so far. He was fairly normal looking... Apart from the fact that he only had one eye, of course.

The Scout remembered thinking how dumb it was for a company to hire a mercenary with such a big handicap like that when he was first introduced to him, but he hadn't mentioned it. Maybe if he got to know him a bit better, he might ask him about it.

The Scout finished his sweep of the room and, seeing no-one else, realised they were missing one person; their Spy. He'd only seen him a couple of times since he'd got there, mainly brief passings in the corridors. Now he came to think of it, he wasn't sure if he'd _ever _seen him in the common room. He wondered if the Spy was some kind of recluse, or if he just had better things to do with his time.

Either way, the Scout's attention was dragged back to the present as he noticed that _everyone_ was most-definitely staring at him now. He stood there in the doorway, feeling like there was an elephant in the room, and he was the elephant.

"Uhh..." The Scout started, clearing his throat awkwardly.

He noticed the Engineer looking at his bat and then his gun, and saw him smirk. The Scout frowned slightly.

_What's he got to look so smug about?_ He thought, annoyed.

The Soldier seemed to be thinking the same as the Engineer however, as he then stood up and pointed at the Scout's weapons.

"That training equipment belongs in the main supply closet, Private." He stated sharply, pointing at the Scout's waist.

"Oh, yea'." The Scout replied in his strong Boston accent, looking down at his gun which was still sticking out of his trousers' waistband. "Yea', sorry about dat, uhh... 'Sarge?" His frown deepened. "I'll put 'em away now."

He turned to face the corridor again, catching Demo's sympathetic eye as he did so, and he felt strangely embarrassed all of a sudden. Why did he feel embarrassed? He'd _only_ just come out of the training area and he hadn't had a chance to get the supply closet yet. Was that considered a _massive_ faux-pas here? He couldn't see how it could be...

As he closed the door behind him, he could hear everyone starting to talk again. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard the Engineer make a remark that caused the Soldier to burst into a raucous laugh. He felt uneasy. Did he say something about _him_? Was he a laughing stock already?

_Fuck dat shit!_ He thought angrily. _If dey wanna think I'm some kinda pussy, dey've got anutha thing comin' to 'em. I'll show 'em what I'm made of tomorrow!_ He vowed as he turned the corner at speed, crashing straight into the Spy.

"Woah!" He held up his hands straight away, not knowing how the Spy was going to react. "Sorry, dude. Didn't see ya there..."

The Spy was quite a tall man and, judging by the simulated representations of his class in the training exercises, the Scout wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him. However, the Spy simply straightened his pin-stripe suit-jacket and replied, in his thick French accent, "It iz not a problem."

Without another word he continued along the corridor and turned down the way the Scout had just come from. The Scout just stared after him, still in shock from the collision.

_Weird-o… _The young Bostonian thought after a few more moments. Then, remembering that he hadn't eaten dinner yet, he turned and started jogging in the direction of the supply closet the Soldier had mentioned, thinking that the sooner he put his things away, the sooner he could eat. The sooner he'd eaten, the sooner this day would be over and _then _he'd be able to show his team-mates just how useful he could be on a battlefield.

His heart sped up at the thought. He wasn't _into_ hurting people... _Well, maybe a little... To the people who reeeeally deserve it. _He snickered to himself. But he _did_ get a rush out of competition, of any kind, and he knew that not one of the other men on his team would have anything on him, in terms of speed. He was the fastest there was. He'd won every race he'd ever been in and in his school's baseball team he could reach home plate before the ball had even hit the ground. He was, incidentally, also very good at baseball, but that wasn't the point.

He started thinking about the next day, and what it would be like. As he understood his job so far, there was some land that two companies were fighting over, and it was him and his team-mates' jobs to reclaim, and keep, as much of it as possible. They did this in the usual ways; by killing the enemy, capturing their intelligence and stealing or breaking their equipment. Oh, and there was something about a cart, but he hadn't been paying attention by that point; he'd figure it all out soon enough. Plus he knew there were briefings before every mission, so he was confident he'd pick things up quickly.

He reached the supply room, entered the pass-code and flung his bat, gun and unused towel in the corner of the room with all the other "Scout" equipment. He shut the door firmly behind him, waited for the beeping sound that confirmed it had locked and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

_Right. I'll get me some eats, then head off ta bed. Got a bright and early start tomorrow and I don't wanna disappoint!_ He grinned; ideas of how he was going to show off to his team-mates already flying around his head.

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Update 1202/2012 - Chapter 2 is coming along nicely. If you're checking this/keeping up to date with it I'd like to thank you for the support! As a teaser, I can tell you the next chapter is called, "Respawn". (Not much of a teaser, I know! But thanks again if you do come back to read more, I hope you won't be disappointed!)


	2. Chapter 2 'Capture The Flag'

**Author's Note:**

So... This chapter _isn't_ called "Respawn"... Sorry for lying... I had intended it to be called that, but things went a different way in the end... Enjoy!

(And subscribe to the story alerts if you're enjoying it so far - I _will _be updating this as I'm writing it, promise!)

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - 'Capture The Flag'<strong>

"WOAH!.. Da _fuck _was that?" The Scout yelled, as the sound of heavy gun-fire thundered around him, almost completely drowning his question out.

He had so far clocked up an impressive 10 minutes of real, non-training battle since his arrival at the RED base and, while still in the middle of his first mission, he had just seen something shoot past him so fast that it had only registered as a blur. Seconds later a massive explosion behind him propelled both him and his large Scottish team-mate, the Demoman, several feet forward; the force of the impact knocking them both to the ground.

"_Tha'_," The Demoman started in his strong Scottish accent, lifting his head, so that his face wasn't pressed against the ground, "Would be a _rocket_, laddie." He finished, quickly picking himself up and double-checking he still had all his limbs; the Scout had guessed that he'd most likely lost his eye to this war, so he probably wasn't about to lose anything else in a hurry. He turned around to see the owner of said rocket disappear round a corner, presumably chasing one of their other team-mates. The Scot's eyes narrowed. "Tha BLU Soldiers', I think. Got it las' week. _Loves_ tha damn thing."

The Scout, who had already jumped up and dusted himself off, looked up at the Demoman suddenly; a horrified look on his face.

"Wait, wait... A _rocket_..? He's got freakin' ROCKETS for ammo!?" He yelled the last part rather loudly, despite their mission being one based on stealth.

The Demoman nodded, but with a jerk of his head indicated to some nearby tunnels. They knew, from intelligence the Spy had gathered the week before, that the tunnels would lead straight to the other side of the battlefield, directly into BLU territory. The Scout grabbed his bat, which had flown out of his hand from the force of the blast, but not gone far, and they both started running. The tunnels would provide shelter from any more gunfire (or stray rockets) and would allow them to check on their supplies before they went any further.

They reached the entrance of the hollowed-out caves and slowed down, but didn't come to a complete stop until they were fully inside and completely out of sight. The Demoman began checking how many grenades he had left and then made sure all his sticky bombs were still attached.

"Tsch," he tutted in annoyance. The Scout could see he only had a couple of grenades left; most of his belt-slots were empty. "Next bit could git a bit messy, 'less I find some more o' these on the way, boy!"

The Scout merely stood there, staring in disbelief at how casually the Demoman was taking nearly being blown up.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his companion spoke first.

"Somethin' botherin' ya, lad?" The Demoman asked, without even looking up, his one eye still focused on his equipment.

The Scout gawped for a moment at his continued nonchalance, but then, soon realising he wasn't going to get a reaction out of the other man, he lifted his bat, so that the Demoman looked up. Trying to stay calm, but with his voice cracking slightly, he said slowly, "Dat _guy_... Had, a freakin', _rocket-launcher_, while _I_ got a god-damn _**baseball bat**_!" He looked at the bat and then back to the Demoman. "What the _hell _am I s'posed ta do with _dis_!"

The Demoman looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! Yer funny, kid. 'Aint your job ta bring the other guys doon! Least, not today. Tha's fer Heavy, Soldier 'n' Sniper ta sort oot!" He clapped the Scout on the back, rather hard, but in a friendly fashion. Having finished his supply-check, he started walking down the tunnel, still speaking to the Scout as he walked. "Yeh jus' need ta git in an' oot as quick as possible, like we planned. Then we can finish work early and git good 'n' drunk!"

The Scout glanced doubtfully back to his bat, but decided to put it out of his mind, for now. The way he saw it, if the Demoman had no major concerns about his own death, after almost being blown to oblivion by a guy with a rocket-launcher, then maybe the his team were _just so good_ that they would protect them _completely_ on their mission.

He grimaced, doubting it, but he decided to have _some_ faith in his fellow team-mates. With that in mind, he continued down the tunnel, following the Demoman, who had just turned right and out of sight. As he walked, the Scout made sure to check his pistol was within easy reach. He didn't know how much good it would do against a rocket-launcher, or whatever else the other team may be equipped with, but it would be better than his bat, at long-range anyway. After all, there was only _so_ much damage a speeding baseball could do...

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><p>The two RED mercenaries finally reached the tunnel's exit and stopped. They'd only been travelling for about 10 minutes, but it had felt like an eternity to the Scout. He hated the idea of sneaking around unseen when the <em>real<em> battle was happening elsewhere. It was nothing like his training the week before. In his training missions he'd been free to run around and do whatever he wanted, which had mainly consisted of him killing a _lot _of simulated BLUs. His team, however, had _insisted_ on a covert mission in their post-battle briefing. "At least to start with", they had all agreed, despite his fervent objections.

He scoffed, thinking about how boring the journey had been. As they'd ventured deeper through the underground structure, the noise of gun-fire and yelling had gradually quietened down, almost to the point of silence, but as they'd gotten closer to the exit, it had started back up again, and was now back to it's practically-deafening level. Along the way they had found a couple of bits and pieces like the Demoman had hoped, but nothing very useful; mainly old, unusable guns or empty bullet shells from previous battles. The Demoman had, however, managed to find an unexploded grenade with the pin still in, which he'd clipped to his belt along with the rest of them.

The Scout, who was now in the lead, moved forward slowly and glanced cautiously round the edge of the cave's opening. In the not-so-far distance he could see the unmistakable figure of their team's Heavy, firing his minigun like there was no tomorrow. The Scout winced slightly as he saw someone on the other team get hit in the shoulder and quickly retreat back, clutching the injury with his other hand.

He wasn't sure whether he felt more sorry for the injured BLU, or more annoyed at the Heavy for not managing to finish him off. He knew it should have been the latter, but seeing it happen in real life was very different from the training he'd had. He'd known what the job had entailed before he'd applied for it, but he was still trying to get used to the idea of actually killing someone and, more importantly, possibly facing his _own _death out here.

The Heavy laughed, loud enough for the Scout to hear, shaking him out of his thought process. He looked back at the Heavy, who was now walking slowly towards the other team's base. He was closely followed by the Medic, who was using his medigun to keep his large, Russian counterpart at maximum health.

The Scouts eyes turned to the ground where they walked; there was blood _everywhere._ He couldn't understand how there weren't a _ton_ of corpses strewn around the battlefield. How could there be that much blood and no fatalities? He supposed it was a good thing, for his team at least. He was trying very hard not to think of any fellow REDs being killed. He didn't know any of them well yet, but he had to admit, he was _very _concerned about being a man-down in this kind of environment. He didn't know how long one team would be able to last without matched odds, though he supposed they'd lasted as long as they had already, so they must be doing something right.

A harsh nudge in the back from the Demoman reminded Scout of the mission at hand. Quickly scanning the rest of the area, being sure to look up high in case of hidden Snipers, he turned his head, nodded to the Demoman that it was safe, and sprinted across the open space, stopping only once he'd reached their next checkpoint: The enemy base.

The Scout expertly kicked in a nearby door, causing it to fly open and he immediately swung himself round the corner; his standard-issue pistol in his outstretched arms. He was determined to blow the heads off anyone unfortunate enough to be patrolling this corridor, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he could. His theatrics, however, were all in vain, as he saw no-one. His hands and arms were shaking slightly, though he tried his very best to hide it, as he heard the Demoman approaching behind him.

He glanced back at the Demoman and muttered, "Yo, which way?"

Since kicking in the door hadn't drawn any unwanted attention, he didn't want to now go and do anything to make their presence obvious. There could be BLUs nearby, lurking in the shadows, or waiting around corners. The Demoman nodded in the direction the Scout's gun was still pointed.

"Straigh' ahead, laddie." He gestured to his gun, "Yeh won't need that for a bit now though, eh? Just keep yer bat handy."

The Scout looked the Scot in his good eye and nodded, lowering his gun slowly.

"Yea', yea'. No problem." He replied, putting the gun carefully in his waistband, which was doubling for him as a holster. He pulled his bat out from his backpack and held it at his side, gripping it hard as he started to walk down the corridor, but his palms were sweaty and he could feel it slowly slipping. _Man, I need gloves or summit... Dis is ridiculous._

He turned the corner at the end of the corridor and continued down the next; there was no-one in sight and it was deadly silent. Slightly unnerved, he cleared his throat, only to whisper an apology after the Demoman "shh'd" him, mere seconds later.

"Could be spies here, laddie. Keep yer guard up."

"Spies?" The Scout asked. "Thought yous guys said da Pyro would be coverin' Spies?.. Plus they don't even know I'm here yet! Why would dey be keepin' an eye out for me?" Becoming more confident at the thought, he started absent-mindedly swinging his bat around.

"Yeah, but _I'm_ with yeh, ain't I? So they'll be wondering where _I _am." The Demoman replied. The Scout turned to make a smart comment about how he didn't need babysitting, but stopped when he saw the Scot taking a, rather large, swig of a mystery liquid from an old-looking hip-flask. The older man lowered his flask and pulled a strange face (the Scout couldn't decide whether it was one of disgust or delight), then he licked his lips and concealed the flask in one of the many pockets inside his jacket.

"Ahh. Tha's better." He said. "Now, come on, we're nearly at tha next checkpoint. Yeh remember what ta do, right?"

The Scout scoffed. "Pfft, 'course I do! What, you think I wasn't listenin at ALL in the briefin'?" He challenged, mock-offended. The Scot laughed.

"Well, yeh didn't know the other team'd be fightin' with actual GUNS, now, didja?" He started to laugh even louder at the Scout's indignant face, but a nearby crash silenced him almost immediately. They both stopped dead in their tracks.

"...Wha-" The Scout started.

"Shh!" The Demoman urged, raising his index finger to his mouth, indicating the Scout keep quiet. He walked quickly past his young team-mate, who was now completely still, and peered round the next corner slowly. There was a broken crate on the floor with stuffing spread everywhere, but there was no-one in sight.

"A'right laddie," The Scot started explaining quietly. "Whoever tha' was, I'm goin' after him. Hopefully he didn' hear us, or he just thinks it's me here." The Scout nodded, still not making a sound. "Wait 'til you hear tha' I'm out of range and then you keep goin' with tha plan, got it?"

"Got it." The Scout whispered back.

"A'right, good luck!" And with that, the Demoman was off, shouting profanities loudly as he ran in the direction the crate-stuffing led to. The Scout gulped, hoping his team-mate would be OK, and stood there for a few minutes, tapping his bat nervously against his side. After a few more minutes he couldn't stand waiting any longer and, even though he could still hear the Demoman's war-cries coming from somewhere deeper within the base, he set off in the opposite direction that his companion had gone.

From the plans he'd seen in the briefing he knew the general direction he needed to go in. A right, then a left, then... Straight ahead? He shook his head. _Nah, it was right, right again, left,__** then**__ straight ahead... I think..?_

He was jogging through the base, bat still in hand, trying desperately not to get lost. After two direction changes and seemingly endless identical passages, however, he realised he'd ended up back where he'd split with the Demoman in the first place; the smashed crate was once again in front of him.

"Aww, FUCK!" He shouted in frustration. How could it be so hard to find _one stupid room_? His annoyance quickly turned to fear however, when he heard the sound of movement behind him. He spun around, raising his bat in anticipation, but he saw no-one. He squinted at the air, trying to figure out if there was a Spy there, possibly standing right in front of him. From what he'd been told by his team-mates, Spies could be _completely _undetectable if they really wanted to be.

Still suspicious, he slowly turned back, but quickly spun around again, swinging his bat wildly at the air behind him. Nothing. Satisfied he'd imagined the sound, he turned back around for real, and headed back in the direction he went the first time he separated from the Demoman. This time he was determined not to get lost. He visualised the base's blueprints as he picked up the pace again; it was right, _then_ straight ahead, the left, straight ahead again and the room he needed _should _be somewhere along the next corridor.

He slowed to a walk, put his bat away and retrieved his pistol from his waistband. Making sure it was ready to fire, he crept to the edge of the first room on his right, hoping it was the right one. He'd already had enough of this place for one day and he just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He leaned around the door-frame and glanced into the room; on a large table in the middle of the room sat a bright blue briefcase. The Scout's heart sped up immediately; this was it, this was what he'd been looking for. His mission was to find this briefcase and bring it back with him to the RED base.

He looked around again, making double, and then _triple_, sure there was no-one around. Remembering what they'd said in the briefing, he grabbed his bat from his bag and dropped it gently, rolling it into the room. Apart from the slight sound the wooden bat made as it rolled along the concrete floor, there was only silence. This was good news; it meant the BLU Engineer hadn't set up any sentries to guard the briefcase. This made the next part of the mission _very_ easy for the young Scout.

Full of confidence, he sauntered into the room, picking up his bat as he went, and headed straight for the briefcase. He reached the table and stopped to look at his prize for moment. There were a couple of pieces of paper actually sticking out ever so slightly from the case's sealed edges.

_Pfft._ He rolled his eyes. _Dey ain't guarding it __**and**__ dey ain't even locked it up properly?.. Sure don't think a lot of us REDs, do they? _He smiled. He'd show them it was a mistake to under-estimate any team _he_ was on.

He picked up the briefcase and turned to leave, when suddenly a deafening alarm sounded and blue strobe lights flashed frantically in every corner of the room. His heart stopped.

"ALERT! ALERT! THE ENEMY HAS TAKEN OUR INTELLIGENCE!" The booming female voice from the Scout's training sessions resonated in his head. "ALL BLU CLASSES: FIND THE ONE RESPONSIBLE AND **RECOVER THE INTELLIGENCE**! THIS IS YOUR TOP PRIORITY!"

_Well... Shit. _He thought, standing there. But before he had time to think anything else, his legs started working of their own accord, and he sped out of the room, briefcase and bat in one hand, pistol in the other.

_Why da __**fuck**_ _didn't they mention __**dat**_ _in the damn briefin'! _He thought angrily, while desperately trying to remember the route back to the tunnel.

_Dat helmet-head spent __**15 god-damn minutes**_ _explaining what 'discreet' meant, but he couldn't find the time to just say, "Oh, by da way! When you pick up their briefcase a __**shit-ton**_ _of bells and alarms will sound, so, yeh, make sure you're prepared for dat! _He thought the last part bitterly; the handle of the briefcase dug sorely into his hand, as he hadn't had any time to return his bat to his backpack before taking flight.

He sped around another corner, not recognising it at all, but not having enough time to worry or care. He didn't have a rocket-launcher and he didn't have grenades, the only thing he _did_ have was the one thing the enemy wanted to get _back_. They were all going to be focused on him now, so the only thing he could do was run. Fast.

All of a sudden he found himself skidding over the crate-stuffing the Demoman had gone to investigate earlier. _Ha! _He thought to himself, while trying to keep steady. _Got __**no**_ _freakin' idea how I ended up here, but it should jus' be round da next coupl'a corners now... _He leaned and skidded round the next corner, shooting down the corridor like a bullet and turned yet another corner at the end.

He was getting quite hopeful now, he was sure he was almost there. He could almost smell the fresh air, as he flew round another sharp turning, almost smashing straight into the door that the Demoman and him had used to enter the building. It was still open from where he'd kicked it in, resting slightly crooked on its hinges. He took the opportunity to stop and breathe for a moment, regaining his composure.

_Phew! _He thought, breathing heavily. _Now __**dat**__, is what I'm talkin' about!_

Grinning, he put his bat between his knees, holding it in place with his legs and swung the heavy briefcase around him, resting it on his back. He clipped it to the sides of his backpack and, putting his pistol back in his trousers, he took his bat up in his right hand, holding it like he would in a game. He took a deep breath and then quietly whispered to himself, "Time ta play ball!"

With that, he kicked the door even further off its hinges and, running into the open space of the BLU's territory, he yelled a war-cry that echoed across the whole of the immediate combat-zone, even over the BLU's alarms and sirens.

He laughed triumphantly as he sped across the battlefield, seeing only blurs of red and blue, dodging bullets and explosions with surprising, yet reassuring, ease.

_**Dis **__is what it's all about, __**dis**_ _is what I needed ta do! None of dat lame-ass sneakin' around... _He thought, as yet another rocket flew past him, hitting the ground a good distance away.

He turned around, still running and grinning inanely, and shouted out, "Haha! Yous were waaaay off!" He stuck his middle finger up at whoever was there, and turned back around, incredibly pleased with himself.

He was so quick on his feet it was like running on air; every single bump, rock and even BLU sticky-bomb simply disappeared underneath him, his feet automatically re-routing or jumping to avoid any obstacle. It was like his legs and feet had a mind of their own; they took note of everything in their path, then seemed to just dismiss them, considering them no more than minor inconveniences.

As the Scout felt the wind rushing past him he remembered back to his childhood; baseball games in the local field, school sports days, playing with friends and challenging them to races, knowing he'd always win. He was very contented. Right at that moment in time, he was doing _exactly_ what he loved; running, fighting, _winning_. He was on top of the world and nothing could bring him down.

He saw the RED base come into sight; he was so close now, he could almost taste victory. As he ran, he spotted the Demoman to his right, fighting one-on-one with the enemy Pyro. He was so excited to see his team-mate alive and well and, knowing that victory for his team was so close, he yelled over to the Demoman.

"Hey! Yo, I got it, man! I freakin' got it!" He almost screamed in order to be heard from such a distance, pointing to the briefcase on his back. The Demoman looked over to him with a slightly confused look on his face.

The Scout grinned wider than ever, his slightly larger front teeth gave his face an almost goofy expression.

"I SAID: I, GOT, IT!" He shouted again, giving the Demoman the thumbs up. The Demoman raised his hand to give the Scout a wave when suddenly, without warning, he burst into flames. The BLU Pyro was stood behind him, laughing manically; his flame-thrower lit and pointed directly at the Demoman.

The Scout's heart jolted painfully and he stumbled, his legs faltering. He came to a stop; unable to run any more. He couldn't even move. His chest felt suddenly compressed, like the wind had been knocked out of him. He could barely breathe. The Demoman fell to the floor and the Pyro raised his weapon above his head in triumph, his victory cheers muffled by the mask he wore.

The Scout couldn't believe what he'd seen. The Demoman was _dead_. He was dead, and it was all the Scout's fault. As he looked at his team-mate's corpse, he felt himself go numb. He almost seemed to float out of his body, leaving the battle behind and he submitted to the feeling, letting it take over him.

The battle was still raging on around him, however, and with the Scout now standing still, almost every member of the BLU team focused every available weapon they had on him. Rockets, bullets and even _arrows _flew threw the sky, heading straight for the Scout, but he had no knowledge of it.

All he could think of, over and over, were three words: _I. Killed. Him._

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Update 2902/2012 - Yeah... I hated the old chapter title (I had a lot of trouble thinking of one that fitted, once I realised 'Respawn' wasn't relevant any more)... Changed it to 'Capture The Flag' as I think that works a lot better. Next chapter is getting there. Kinda slowly, but it is getting there. Cheers for reading!


	3. Chapter 3 'ÜberCharge'

**Author's Note:**

Yay! I finally managed to write a chapter which doesn't start with speech! (One of the big no-no's I was taught in school, but something I've ignored so far in this story!)

So, chapter's a bit shorter than the others (and I know there's been a bigger wait between chapters) but hopefully it's spicy enough to keep your interest! (If not though, thank you for sticking with it this far!)

Well then, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - ÜberCharge<strong>

The Scout was stuck in a bubble. Everything around him was dulled; quiet and distant, as if it were happening underwater, or on TV with the volume turned way down. He heard something... A scream? No, a yell. And it was getting louder and louder, as if it were coming towards him.

_What __**is**__ dat?_ He thought, lucidly. He had no haste to find out, but little did he know, he was just about to, in a _very _abrupt way.

* * *

><p>"YAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The Heavy roared, as he came crashing into the Scout, knocking him clear off his feet.<p>

As the Scout fell to the floor, he snapped out of his mesmerised state, suddenly remembering he was in the middle of a battle. He looked up from his place on the floor and saw the most incredible sight; the RED Medic and Heavy were shielding him from a truly insane arsenal of BLU ammunition, but that wasn't what astounded the Scout the most. As he looked at them, he was forced to squint, because they were both emitting an unearthly red glow, burning bright and reflecting the sun's light at all angles.

The Scout was dumbfounded as he realised that, while they were literally acting as human shields to protect him, neither of the two men were actually taking _any_ damage. Not a single incoming bullet was effecting either of them in the slightest. They seemed to just disappear once they reached them. There was no blood and he couldn't see any impact wounds. The Medic and the Heavy weren't even _flinching _as the onslaught hit them.

The Scout literally had _no _idea what was happening.

The Medic turned round, his medigun still pointed at the Heavy, shooting a healing red beam at him.

"Skout! Get out of here!" He shouted to the confused Bostonian. The Scout could barely hear him over the sound of all the gunfire, together with the nearby Heavy's booming laughter.

He looked up at him and yelled back, "What?"

The Medic took one hand off his medigun and pointed behind the Scout to the RED base. "Get back to ze base! Now!"

The Scout looked over to where the Demoman's body still laid; the Pyro no longer anywhere to be seen.

"What about him?" He shouted, pointing to his fallen friend.

The Medic looked in the direction the Scout had pointed, but quickly looked back, shaking his head.

"Zere is no time, you must get back to ze base! _NOW_, SKOUT!" He replied, forcefully.

The Scout looked over to the Heavy, who was now slowly walking forward. Most of the oncoming BLUs had either retreated, or been shot into submission by the Heavy's powerful machine-gun. The Scout tried not to think about the Demoman for one minute, in an attempt to get his thoughts straight.

He knew the Demoman was dead and he knew they'd have to retrieve his body, but maybe they could do that once the enemies intelligence had been secured in the RED base? During the cease-fire, perhaps... Either way, he had no idea how much longer the Medic and Heavy would be able to remain invincible, so, making a quick decision, he decided to finish his mission and then go back for his team-mate afterwards.

He nodded to the Medic, who immediately turned back around and began jogging to catch up with the Heavy, and quickly got up; bat still in hand and the BLU briefcase still on his back. Without another moment's hesitation, he started running in the direction of the RED base, refusing to look back to the fallen RED any more. He felt choked up; disgusted at himself for leaving him there, but he vowed he would go back and get him, the _second _the enemy intelligence was secured in the base. Whether the battle was over or not.

* * *

><p>"SUCCESS! WE HAVE SECURED THE ENEMY INTELLIGENCE." The Announcer's voice bellowed over the intercom system.<p>

The Scout had just crossed the threshold of the RED base when the announcement had sounded. He was still in shock from the battle and soon realised he had no idea where to put the briefcase, now that it was in their base. He stopped near the entrance, making sure he was shielded from any fire, laid his bat on the floor and looked around, hoping to see someone.

No-one was there, so he took off the briefcase and leaned it against his legs on the floor, wondering whether to just chuck it into the nearest room and go find the Demoman's body, or to sit tight and wait for instructions.

The seconds ticked on and the Scout was becoming more and more agitated. Every moment he stood there was time that could be spent bringing his friend back. It felt disrespectful. He picked up the briefcase and was just about to look around for somewhere to hide it, when suddenly, he saw figures come into sight on the horizon of the battlefield. He sighed with relief when he saw they were REDs.

He could make out the Medic and the Heavy in the lead and, behind them, the Pyro and the Soldier. They had obviously all ganged up on the BLUs, following the Medic and Heavy's invincibility trick.

He stood and waited for them to get nearer when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He spun round, no weapon on him, but ready to attack, but what he saw didn't make any sense.

It was the Demoman. The _RED_ Demoman. The man he'd seen be set on fire, and die.

"Phew. Y'alright there, laddie?" The Scot asked casually, looked at the briefcase in the Scout's hand. "We win then, did we?" He asked, adjusting his black beanie-hat so it sat on his head more comfortably.

The Scout merely gawped back at him in shock. Was this the BLU Spy? Was he disguised and about to kill the Scout? _He can't be..._ Thought the Scout. _He looks_ _**exactly**_ _da same..._

The Scot raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, you sure you're all right boy? You look like yeh've seen a ghost." He asked; a hint of what sounded like genuine concern in his voice.

The Scout couldn't think of anything to say. Was this magic? Was the man who got killed on the battlefield a decoy? If this _was _the real Demoman, why was he acting like nothing had happened?

Finally, he couldn't contain his confusion any more and blurted out loudly, "What da FUCK is goin' on?"

The Scot looked confused but, by this point, the REDs the Scout had seen moments before had reached the base and were clapping him on the back for a job well done.

The Scout looked around even more confused. Why were people congratulating him? Why was the Demoman stood in front of him, about as not-dead as you could be?

The Demoman suddenly smiled, and asked slowly, "Now, Scout... Don't tell me you didnae even read the stuff in yer contract about the Respawn system?"

The Scout's blank expression was more than enough to tell the Scot that he hadn't. The Demoman shook his head and laughed softly. He gave the Scout a nudge on the shoulder and explained patiently, as if speaking to a child, "Lis'en up, boy. If we 'die' on the battlefield, we just come back in Respawn! Good as new... Sometimes better, in fact. Just like in yeh trainin'..?"

He looked at the Scout, who was still trying to absorb the fact that his mentor was actually _alive_ and standing in front of him.

"Yeh understand?" The Demoman tilted his head, his sympathetic eye seemed like it was trying to read the Scout's face for any sign of comprehension. The Scout looked back at him with, now guilty, eyes.

"But... I killed ya, man..." He muttered, looking down at the floor, still confused and angry at himself. He couldn't be forgiven, just like _that_... Could he? He glanced around and saw the Medic and Heavy chatting happily. _Dey don't seem to mind dat much... _He thought to himself. Maybe he was making it out to be a much bigger deal than it actually was?

He looked and saw the Pyro doing a strange victory dance while holding his flamethrower above his head. The Scout shuddered, remembering when the BLU Pyro had done the same. He decided right there that, as much of a nice guy he might turn out to be, he wasn't very fond of _any_ Pyros, regardless of their allegiances.

He couldn't see the Spy anywhere, but the Engineer and the Sniper had now joined the group and were talking quietly with the Soldier. None of them were smiling and they definitely weren't interested in congratulating the Scout on their team's win. The Soldier looked very serious, making the Scout wonder if he was going to get some type of official reprimand for putting someone else's life in danger during a mission. The Sniper, whilst not looking happy or pleased about the victory, didn't look annoyed or angry about the Scout's mistakes either. He was just, expressionless; the Scout couldn't gauge his mood at all. But the _Engineer_... He was showing something more than just annoyance at an error of judgement in battle. He looked to the Scout like he was genuinely _angry_, as if it was _him_ who'd been sent to Respawn! The Scout quickly looked away when he saw the Engineer look over in his direction, a sneer on his face as he made a remark that made the Soldier smirk and the Sniper roll his eyes.

_What da __**fuck **__is his problem... _The Scout thought, feeling his heart-rate increasing in anger. _I mean, __**seriously**__?_ He was just about to get himself worked up, when he stopped and thought about it for a moment. He managed to convince himself not to let it get to him. He couldn't pick fights with his colleagues so soon after starting this job; he might get fired and he _couldn't_ let that happen. He'd just have to grin and bear it for now.

The Scout finally raised his head back to the Demoman, who gave him a smile and a quick wink, before raising his voice so everyone could hear, declaring, "Ey, don't you worry about it, OK? We _all _make mistakes." He nodded at the rest of his team. "Now. Let's go git some grub, and git drunk!"

He grabbed the Scout by his shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the canteen, which was good, as he wasn't about to start moving of his own accord any time soon. The rest of the team followed them, now all talking comfortably amongst themselves. Being so close to the entrance for so long after a battle was unusual and they were all glad to be getting out of sight.

The Scout began walking properly when he suddenly remembered what was still in his hand.

"Wait! What about dis?" He held the blue briefcase up, to show the Demoman and the rest of the REDs. The Demoman began to say something when the Engineer appeared from behind the Scout and grabbed it out of his hands.

"_I'll_ take that." He answered in his low, gravelly voice.

The Scout looked at him, shocked; affronted by the snatch. True to his own word, however, he replied merely with, "Thanks, man." and went to turn around. The rest of the REDs, including the Demoman, were now in front of him, having already resumed their walk back to the canteen. As the Scout went to follow them, he heard the Engineer mutter something to him quietly, so that none of the other's could hear.

"Nice job, by the way, _kid_... Next time though, try not to get any of us killed, yeah?" He said, softly. The Scout looked at him straight in the eyes, showing him he wasn't afraid, but the Engineer did not look away. "'S kinda frowned upon here, ya know? We really value _team-work_... It doesn't do to have one guy tryin' to show off, or hog all the glory like back there."

He smiled a large, fake smile, gave the Scout a wink and then walked away with in the direction of his workshop, leaving the Scout to just stand there, watching him, as he disappeared round a corner. The Scout, feeling instantly awful again about the whole thing, turned and jogged to catch up with the rest of his team. He reached the Demoman who, unbeknownst to him, had been watching the whole thing.

"Wha' was all that aboot, laddie?" He asked quietly, so none of the other REDs could hear.

The Scout's mind worked quickly, not wanting to show that the Engineer had got to him. He mustered up his own fake-smile and replied simply with, "Nuthin', man. Nuthin'." Then, resting his arm on the Demoman's shoulder, and leaving it there as they walked, he asked loudly to the whole team, "So! What's on da menu tonight?"

As the team started discussing what they were going to eat, and then what their favourite meals of all time were, the Scout knew by the Demoman's silence that he hadn't gotten away with his lie, but just hoped he was enough of a man not to ask him about it.

**-End Chapter-**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I feel the need at this stage to explain that this story _is _Sniper/Scout, but I'm in no hurry to rush into their relationship. I'm _really_ sorry if I gave the impression that they'd be bonking by the second chapter (I don't think I did...) but if you're interested in seeing how this story unfolds, then please, subscribe to story alerts and read on!

ps Sometimes, in the process of copying the story over to FanFiction from my PC, a bit of the coding gets messed up (eg No spaces after italic words, etc) so, although I _do_ proof-read before uploading, if you spot any errors like that, let me know so I can update the file with the correct format. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4 'Poker Night At The Inventory'

**Author's Note:**

Good _lord_, I'm a terrible human being! How long has it been since the last update? 3 years? _**4?**_ It's almost like I don't _want_ people to stick with this...

But seriously, I am _genuinely_ sorry for the big wait between chapters. I haven't found a lot of time recently to put aside for this, and had a bit of a block with a couple of sections of this chapter. I don't want to upload something that I'm not happy with, but unfortunately that means delays in getting it here. (But it's all good now, I think... Horray!)

I also wanted to say an incredibly **huge** thank you to the people who have left me reviews - I didn't see them 'til very recently, but they really made my day, and motivated me to get this chapter finished, so thank you **so much** to you!

And, of course, a massive thank you to everyone who's subscribed/checking back to read this. It's a bit of a journey for me, and it's great to know that others are enjoying it with me.

OK, so, going to shut up now. Happy reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Poker Night At The Inventory<strong>

The Scout looked down at the leaflet he was holding, his brows furrowed in concentration.

It had been given to him by the Soldier, just after the RED mercenaries had finished their very first victory meal with the Scout as part of their team. He'd gone to a quiet spot in the corner of the common room to look at it, worried it might have been an official warning from his employers. He still thought he'd gotten away too easily with his earlier error of judgement during that day's battle (despite the Demoman's _repeated_ assurance that it was fine) and was just waiting for someone to tell him to pack his bags and go. When he'd looked at it properly, however, he'd realised it was something else entirely. It was a small glossy booklet, emblazoned with the 'RED' logo on every page, and seemed to be a sort of mail-order style weapons catalogue.

As he looked over the shiny pages a second time, he felt overwhelmed; there were more weapons here than he could even take in, in one go. There were small guns, big guns, automatic guns, semi-automatic guns, shotguns, rifles, rocket-launchers, flame-throwers; anything he could possibly think of.

As he flicked through the leaflet he saw that there was also a fairly substantial selection of non-gun related products. He quietly named them aloud as he came across them.

"Knives..." He nodded. "Shovels? Hmm... Wrenches..? 'K, bit weird... Wait, _saws_...?" He wrinkled his face in confusion. _Why wouldja need a __**saw **__here..? _He asked himself, wincing when he saw it was categorised under the Medic's section.

Not wanted to consider the implications of what that might mean, he quickly flipped back to the pages marked "The Scout: Weapons and Accessories". He looked again at what was available to him. He began eyeing up something called a 'Force-A-Nature' thinking that the sound of it suited him quite nicely, when the Soldier came over to him with a pen and a sheet of paper with a list on it. The older man handed him both items and then nodded to the booklet.

"You'll only have the very basic stuff available to you right now. More'll become available the longer you're here." He pointed to this list in the Scout's hands. "Fill out what you want and it'll get here in about a week." And with that he walked away, not hanging around to answer any questions the Scout might have.

_OK..._ The Scout thought. _Sounds simple enough._

He looked down at the list, found the 'Scout' sub-heading, and saw there were only 3 things available to him. A scattergun, a crate of 24 cans of something called 'Bonk! Atomic Punch' and a plain black cap with a radio head-set attached to it's side.

He looked at the list in disbelief. _Dat's __**all **__I get? _He looked up at the other sub-categories and saw each class had at least 9 different items available to them, but he was surprised to see not many of them had been ticked. It looked like most of his team had already filled out their section of the form, there were only two people who didn't have any ticks in their category; the Sniper and the Spy. The Scout wondered if that was because they hadn't wanted anything, or the Soldier just hadn't got to them yet.

The Scout, being the patient, forward-thinking person he was, ticked everything in his section and jumped up to find the Soldier, to give the form back to him. As he walked out of the common room, he looked at the form again and realised that for the Bonk! drink (at least, he _assumed_ it was a drink, judging by the picture) he had to input an amount, rather than just a tick. Leaning the list on the thicker booklet as he walked, he tried to change his messy tick into a "1", when he suddenly came into contact with someone very tall, causing him to draw a huge line across the whole page.

"Hey! What da hell, man!" The Scout looking up angrily to see the Sniper, who was readjusting his sunglasses which had been knocked sideways in the collision. "Hey... Sorry 'bout dat, man. Didn't see ya there..." He said cautiously, already regretting his outburst. He had no idea how the Sniper was going to react.

The Sniper merely looked at him, and then at the list. He nodded to it.

"Put me down for a Bushwacka, mate." He said, acknowledging neither the Scout's clumsiness nor his apology.

The Scout just stood there, confused about what was happening and, more importantly, what words the Sniper was saying. The Sniper looked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, mate. You ain't... Err, 'slow' or summit, are ya?" He asked carefully. The Scout looked back at him, completely incensed.

"Wha'? No! 'Course I ain't slow!" He answered. Then, not wanting his team-mate to think he had any learning disabilities, he asked sharply, and rudely, "Well? What da fuck is a 'Bush-whatever' den?"

The Sniper's eyes narrowed and he held an inscrutable gaze with the young American for a long moment, before pointing to the list in the other man's hand, about half-way down, and simply repeating, "One 'Bushwacka' please, mate."

While the Scout, feeling utterly foolish, took a moment to look back down at the form, the Sniper side-stepped past him and carried on on his way, not saying another word.

_Fuckin' "Bushwacka"... _The Scout thought to himself, as he found it under the Sniper's section and put a tick next to it. _How da hell was I s'posed to know what dat was! Makin' me out ta be an idiot..._

He carried on walking, muttering profanities under his breath as he went, and only stopped when he found he Soldier, who was talking with the Engineer in the Battle Room. He walked up to them both; his instinctive need to show the Texan that he wasn't afraid of him began taking over his head and body, as he suddenly found himself shoving the list out in front of him, towards the Soldier.

The Soldier took it, while the Engineer looked down towards the floor, smiling to himself. The Scout wondered what the joke was, but he wasn't about to ask.

The Soldier quickly scanned the form and nodded to him.

"You saw the Sniper, then?" He asked. The Engineer lifted his head slightly and seemed to be paying more attention to the conversation that a moment before.

The Scout stole a quick glance at the Engineer, before turning his head back to the Soldier, nodding.

"Yup. He only wanted dat one thing." He confirmed, not wanting to say the item's name wrong again, especially in front of the Sniper's 'best buddies'. He quickly looked at the Engineer again. He couldn't be sure, but he looked confused, and almost... _Annoyed?.. _About what, the Scout didn't know... He wondered if they usually consulted each other before filling out that form and if he might be jealous that the Scout had done it, instead of him? He smirked at the thought. _Ha. That'll learn ya, ya stupid hard-hat!_

The Soldier raised the list and indicated to the Scout with it.

"Alrighty, we'll get this sent to HQ and, like I said before, the stock should get to us in about a week. 'Til then, just make do with whatcha got." He nodded briefly, then turned back to the Engineer and continued with whatever they were discussing when the Scout had entered the room, though the Scout could clearly see that the Engineer was no longer paying full attention.

He smiled as he walked out of the room. He didn't know why it had annoyed him, but he decided that anything that pissed off the Engineer was OK in his books, and he subconsciously decided to make more of an effort to talk to the Australian man whenever the Engineer was around, if for no other reason than just to see him get wound up. He wondered briefly if this would work with any of the other REDs...

Deciding he would try and find out, he chuckled to himself. No-one was going to mess with him, especially not some moody short-stack like the Engineer.

* * *

><p>It was early evening and most of the RED mercenaries were either in the common room chatting and playing cards, or back in their individual rooms, ready for a peaceful evening of relaxation, and an early night to bed.<p>

The Scout, however, was outside on one of the fort's easily accessible rooftops, trying desperately to read through his contract. He'd been caught out several times already and, at the advice of the Demoman (the only person he seemed to have made any connection with so far) he was reading-up, in anticipation of their next battle. He wanted to be better, faster and, most importantly, show everyone that he was made of the right stuff. His little blip earlier that day had definitely gone against his reputation, more-so with some team-mates than others, and he wanted to raise it back up so that no-one would think he was any kind of burden.

There was only one problem with his studying plan: it was so, damn, _boring_! Every time he tried to concentrate on a page, his eyes either slowly unfocused or just wouldn't take in the information. He'd already read the same page three times, and he still didn't know what it was about.

_Come on, man! Focus! Dis is important... _He told himself, hoping to snap out of his funk. He had initially gone back to his room to look through it, but his comfy bed, coupled with the warmth of the room, had only made him want to turn in for an early night. Out here the weather was crisp and the roof was too uncomfortable to sit in one place for too long. Thinking about it made him have to readjust his position again, which annoyed him even more.

He looked at the open contract in front of him, which was bound like a small book. _What da hell did I even sign? _The Scout wondered as he stared at it, realising he'd barely skimmed over the vast majority of it before happily signing up. He pushed the thought to one side. He knew the important bits: he was fully covered for health and life insurance and his wage was ridiculously high. What else was there to know?

He sighed as he realised there was no way he was going to get anything useful done tonight, so, tucking the bulky document into his trousers, as he'd done with his gun earlier that day, he climbed back through the fire-escape, back into the fort, and jumped down from the platform once he was inside.

He slowly made his way back to his room, feeling a bit guilty that he promised the Demoman he'd read through the sections he'd mentioned ('Respawn', 'Weapons' and 'Rewards'), but also certain he was doing the right thing by not wasting any more time on, what had turned out to be, a fruitless endeavour.

As he walked through the base he wondered what his family was doing at that moment. It was past dinner time, so his mother was probably settling down for the evening, tired after a long day of housework and having to look after the Scout's seven older brothers. Of course, they didn't _all_ live at home any more, but most of them still returned to the family home in the evenings, and those that didn't work helped around the house and did odd-jobs during the day.

The Scout's father hadn't been on the scene for a very long time, but not because he'd left them; he was a construction worker who'd died in an accident at work when the Scout was only two years old. The Scout didn't really remember his father, but his mother always spoke fondly of him, often reminding her eight sons of how much he loved them and how proud he'd be of all of them if he were still here.

Following his father's death, they had received a large settlement from the Courts, who had concluded that the accident was caused by negligence on his employer's part. Although this had done a great deal to help their family financially, the Scout's mother had spent a good year or so struggling to come to terms with her loss, fighting depression along the way.

During this time the Scout's three eldest brothers had taken charge of looking after their siblings; feeding and clothing them, making sure they all got to school on time and so on, all while working part-time to help keep the money coming in. Eventually however, the Scout's mother had pulled herself out of the rut she'd gotten in, and took control of her family again, restoring the household's natural balance.

It was at this point that the Scout's oldest brother had moved out, but only once he knew for sure that their mother would manage without him. He'd gotten a full time job as the coach of a local, little league baseball team, and had taken the Scout to matches ever since.

The Scout smiled as he remembered going with his brother to games and begging him to let him play every time. His brother had always been very patient and explained that he wasn't on the team, so he couldn't play during the match, but he'd always let him join in during practice sessions and after every game, even if it was just the two of them after everyone else had gone home.

As he remembered those times, he started to consider writing a letter home, when he suddenly heard someone yell at him from the room he'd just walked past.

"Ey! Laddie, ya there?" The Demoman shouted again. The Scout doubled-back on himself and peered round the door-frame of the common room.

"Heyy..." He said slowly, seeing the Demoman, the Sniper and the Heavy round a circular table, drinking and... Playing cards.

_Please don't ask me to join. Please don't ask me to join!_ The Scout thought, desperately. They were no doubt playing Poker; a game of which he had no idea how to play and no intention of ever learning. He much preferred outdoor activities to sitting round a table where cards were randomly dealt to you and, somehow, you get labelled a terrible player if you happen to have got all the poor cards? It certainly wasn't his idea of fun.

"Ha! Knew it was yeh." The Demoman announced triumphantly. He was clearly a bit drunk.

_No wonder,_ thought the Scout, as he scanned the table to see at least 3 empty bottles of the Demoman's home-made Moonshine, and another half-empty bottle in his hand.

The Sniper, who's expression looked close to scowling, looked up from his hand and gave the Scout an uncharacteristic, yet genuine, smile.

_Woah... Didn't realise he was __**capable**__ of smilin'!_ Thought the Scout, slightly taken aback.

"Ya joinin' us then or wot?" The Sniper asked, looking back at his hand and throwing a card to the middle of the table.

"Uhh..." This was it! He'd have to say no, then admit he didn't know how to play the manliest card game of all. "Dunno. What'cha playin'?" He asked, trying to bide himself some time to come up with an excuse not to play.

The Sniper's smile grew slightly, still looking at his hand, but before he could answer the Demoman interrupted loudly.

"Playin' POKER, laddie! Come on now and join us, stop standin' there like a... Like a LEMON!" He finished loudly, leaning backwards and dragging a fourth chair towards the table.

The Scout hesitated before finally deciding to confess. "Uhh... Sorry, man... I don't know how ta play poker... Never been taught, ya know?"

The Demoman roared with laughter and the Heavy joined in. The Sniper, however, just nodded to the Heavy on his left.

"Your turn, mate." He looked back at the Scout, the hint of a grin still dancing round his mouth, threatening to break into a fully-fledged smile. "Well, what games _do _ya know, then?" He leaned back on his chair, the wood creaking as it went. "I'm gettin' a bit sick of beating these guys anyway."

The Demoman was outraged by this and he banged his fist loudly on the table, making the cards and casino-style chips jump at its force.

"Now, wait her' a... Damn... Second..?" He said, already forgetting what he was so angry about. The Scout couldn't help but laugh at his friend's inebriated state.

_How da __**fuck**__ is he gonna fight tomorra..._ He wondered to himself, but, remembering the Sniper had asked him a question, he turned back to him.

"Well, I, uhh..." He was desperately trying to think of any card-games he knew, other than Snap and Pairs.

"Twen'y-one!" He said suddenly. "Yea', Blackjack! My brother taught me when I was little. Used ta play with uhh, like, pennies and nickles and stuff..?" He added the last part, wondering how much money each of the casino chips was worth.

The Sniper raised an eyebrow, looking almost impressed.

"Twenty-one, eh?" He nodded to the Scout. "I could play that. Whatd'ya say, fellas?" He asked, turning once again to the Demoman and the Heavy.

The Heavy grunted in agreement, finally taking his turn and throwing down one of his cards, but the Demoman laid his head on the table and mumbled something about not feeling very well.

The Sniper smirked and indicated to the Scout to sit down opposite him, next to the Demoman.

"Looks like it's the three of us then. I'll be dealer." He picked up the cards that were already on the table and started shuffling them.

"HEY!" The Heavy shouted loudly. "What about game!"

The Sniper shrugged, continuing to shuffle. "Eh. You know I was beatin' you anyway, one more round weren't gonna make much difference."

The Heavy looked furious. He was still holding his cards in his hands, and judging by the murderous look on his face, they were good ones. With the rest of the cards (including the inebriated Demomans') off the table and all mixed up, there was no chance of Heavy getting to finish the round, so he stood up, threw the cards on the table and stormed out of the room, cursing the Sniper loudly in Russian.

The Scout sat there, petrified. The Heavy was an _enormous_ man who could probably crush the Scout's spine with a single clench of his fist. He would _never_ have been so off-hand with him, especially after annoying him like that. He wasn't sure how the Sniper had gotten away with mere insults.

The Sniper casually picked up the Heavy's discarded cards and took a look at them.

"Heh. Wouldja look at that?" He smiled, showing the cards to the Scout, before shuffling them in with the rest of the deck. "Straight flush! What a time to quit playin'." He joked.

The Scout, who wasn't even sure how good a hand that had been, gawped at the Sniper. When the oblivious Australian began dealing out their cards, he had to say something.

"Dude!" He blurted out. The Sniper looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "Uhh, I mean, what was that all about, man? He could have killed you!"

The Sniper smirked, putting the deck onto the table and picking up his two cards. He looked at them, smiled, and put them face-down on the table again.

"That Heavy... He's a big guy, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't wanna be in a punch-up with him. But... His temperament outside of battle? He's jus' a damn pussy-cat." He said, taking a sip of beer from a can on the table that was presumably his. He finished his sip and sighed, satisfied. Then continued, "The Medic'd tell ya so, if they weren't so far up each other's arses." He grinned at the dumb-struck Scout, clearly enjoying his reaction, and then looked at his opponent's cards which were still on the table in front of him.

"You gonna look at them or wot?" He asked. "'Less you wanna play blind? Risky business if ya ask me, mate..." He winked, clearly now just trying to wind the Scout up.

The Scout looked down at the two cards and cautiously picked them up, making sure the Sniper couldn't see their faces, and saw he had a ten of hearts and a nine of spades. He tried to remember the exact rules, everyone always played slightly differently when he was a kid and he always had trouble keeping up with the minor differences.

He looked back to the Sniper who was watching him with an interested look and cleared his throat nervously.

"Err... So, is it my go, or what?" He asked the older man, not sure what to do next.

The Sniper continued to smile, obviously very entertained. It was quite unnerving. The Scout had barely heard him speak, let alone smile, laugh or make jokes! Maybe beer and card-games just made him happy? But he hadn't been in such a good mood when the Scout had first got there...

"It's my go, mate. Dealer goes first." He answered, the Scout making a mental note of the Sniper's rules for next time. "I stand."

The Scout knew that meant that the Sniper either had a good hand, or was bluffing. As the Scout was only two away from twenty-one, he didn't want to risk being dealt another card and going over, so he echoed the Sniper's words. "I stand, too."

The Sniper smiled and turned over his cards; the ace of spades and ten of clubs. The Scout moaned in annoyance; he'd lost. He turned over his cards and the Sniper grinned.

"One-nil to me, then." He said smugly, collecting both of their cards and putting them back into the deck, ready to be shuffled again.

The Scout tried hard not to sulk. He wasn't the best loser in the world; many fights had started in his household because of lost games between him and his brothers. He should really have been more used to it, being the youngest in his family, but he wasn't, and he didn't like other people thinking they were better than him, especially over something as trivial as a card-game.

_'F we were on da field right now, playin' a __**real **__game, like Baseball or summit, I'd be whoopin' his ass._ The Scout thought, slightly bitterly as the Sniper began dealing out new cards to them both.

As he looked at his cards (the three of spades and five of diamonds) he wondered about the chips that were still on the table.

"Hey, how come ain't we playin' for money?" He asked abruptly, keeping his cards in his hand. He hadn't paid attention to what they were, but knew they were low.

The Sniper followed the Scout's line of vision to the chips. He shrugged, swapping his two cards round in his hand. "Dunno. You wanna?"

The Scout thought about his mother and brothers at home, relying on the money he was making here. Did he really want to start gambling it away before he'd even received his first paycheck?

"Naw... I'm awrite..." He answered, trying to sound as casual as possible. He didn't want the others to think he needed money more than they did.

"Good." The Sniper answered, taking another large gulp of beer. "'Cause these," he picked up a chip, "Are jus' something we found in some old board games here. Jus' makes the game a bit more interestin', ya know?"

The Scout looked at the chip in his team-mate's hand, embarrassment threatening to take over him.

"Oh... So you's guys weren't actually..?" He began.

The Sniper chuckled and looked over at the Demoman who was still slumped on the table, now snoring softly.

"Nah, mate. We don't need ta take each other's money here. We all get paid the same, we're in the same boat here, ya know?" He twirled the chip gracefully between his fingers before throwing it back on the table. It disturbed the other chips as it landed, making a quiet chinking sound. The Demoman seemed to rouse slightly and he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, before turning his head to the other side and laying it back down again. The Scout saw that he had been resting on a chip this whole time, and there was a deep groove on his cheek where it had been.

The Scout couldn't help but smile. He'd been drunk before of course, but this guy was something else; he took drinking to a whole new level.

"How on _Earth_ is he gonna fight tomorrow? Seriously..." He asked absent-mindedly, almost forgetting the Sniper was there.

"Hmm?" The Sniper answered, drawing the Scout's attention back to him. "Ah, he'll be fine. He's always like this after a victory..." The Sniper pulled a face as he looked at the Demoman who was snoring a lot louder, now that he was on his other side. "And after losses, actually... And on his days off..."

They both sat looking at him for a moment in silence, before returning to their game.

"Your go." The Sniper prompted, putting his cards back on the table, face-down.

"I thought the Dealer goes first?" The Scout asked.

The Sniper smiled. "The Dealer goes _first_. In the entire game... After the first round we take it in turns?"

The Scout rolled his eyes. _What-__**evah**__. _He thought to himself. _Dis guy's jus' makin' it up as he goes along!_ He thought, but instead of arguing, he asked for another card.

"Hit me, den." He said cockily, leaning back in his chair. _Might try and go for a five-card-trick with dis hand._ He contemplated to himself.

The Sniper dealt a card straight onto the table; it was the Ace of hearts. The Scout leaned his chair forward again and looked at the newly dealt card for several seconds, trying to remember if Aces counted as one's or eleven's, when there were no picture cards showing. The Sniper cleared his throat.

"You just take allllll the time you need..." He said patronisingly, taking another sip of beer.

The Scout looked up, trying to appear angry, but when he saw the grin on the Sniper's face, he couldn't help but smile too.

"Hey! Quit it with dat, wouldja!" He said anyway, still smiling.

Picking up the card, he asked, "So, Ace's are high, right?"

"Yup." The Sniper answered happily. "Just add eleven to what you already have in your hand..."

The Scout picked up a chip and lobbed it at the Sniper, hitting him on the chest.

"Fuck you!" He said, grinning widely.

_Dis guy's all right._ He thought. For the first time since his arrival he wasn't feeling apprehensive or worried about what others were thinking of him. He was enjoying the casual atmosphere and was even starting to enjoy the card game, despite it's lack of physical activity.

As the Scout was just about to announce that he was going to stick with the cards he had, the Demoman raised his head, as if from the dead. They both looked at him as he coughed gently once, then vomited _all_ over the table, after which he promptly dropped his head back down again.

The Scout and Sniper quickly pushed their chairs back, not wanting any of the Demoman's sick to get on them.

"What da..." The Scout started, completely shocked.

The Sniper dropped his cards on a part of the table that was still clean and got up to help the Demoman sit up. The Scout, seeing this, did the same.

As they both helped him sit upright, he was gurgling something indistinguishable, and was swaying from side to side. The Sniper looked at the ruined game on the table and back at the Scout.

"I guess that's that, then. You wanna take 'im back to his room, or clear up here?" He asked.

The Scout looked at the table and could almost feel his own dinner start to come up.

"Uhh, I think I'll take him back..." He answered, looking away from the table in disgust. The Sniper nodded. He let go of the Demoman and stood there for a moment.

"You gonna be all right carryin' him?" He looked, sizing the Scout up. "He's pretty heavy, ya know."

The Demoman seemed to have heard this and he tried to answer, supposedly saying that he could walk himself, but as he tried to get up, he fell straight back down again, putting all of his weight on the young Scout.

"Oww, man!" The Scout said, pushing the Demoman the other way, making him lean on the chair's arm.

He looked up, knowing that the Sniper would be questioning his ability to get the Demoman all the way back to his room and, sure enough, he was still standing there with one eyebrow raised.

"I'll be fine." He started, dragging the Demoman back over to his side and making sure his arm was secured round his neck. "Anythin's better dan cleanin' up _dat_ stuff." He said, indicating to the mess on the table and pulling a face without even meaning to.

The Sniper stood there a moment longer, then, seeming to make the decision not to argue with the head-strong Scout, he knelt down to help him get the Demoman on his feet.

"Three, two, _one!"_ The Scout counted down, straining on the last number as both him and the Sniper lifted the large Scot up onto his feet.

"Dere we go..." The Scout said, struggling to keep his friend standing up straight. "Come on den bud, time for bed."

As he slowly and carefully lead the Demoman out of the room he heard the Sniper call from behind him, "We'll finish the game some other time then, yea'?"

The Scout smiled. Not wanting to let go of the Demoman (who was a _lot _heavier than he'd expected) he gave the Sniper a thumbs up and then turned the corner out of sight.

_If he thinks I'ma lose more than once, he's got anutha thing comin' to him. _He thought, smirking. _I'll show 'im what I'm made of... I'll show all of 'em._

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Sorry about the technical stuff to do with the card games... Basically Twenty-oneBlackjack is a game where you get dealt 2 cards initially, and you can either request more, or stick with what you've got, but if you request more and the value of all your cards goes over 21, you lose (bust). The winner is the person with the cards of the highest value at the end of the round.

Update 28/04/2012 - Next chapter should be uploaded very soon - I've just finished the first draft; still need to beta it. Oh, and thank you again to all subscribers, any returning (or new) readers and, of course, all reviewers! You guys keep this thing going!


	5. Chapter 5 'Attack  Defend'

**Author's Notes:**

Hello! I've been asked for an update, so (because I love everyone who's managed to stick with the story, long enough to actually be reading this) here it is!

Also, I've updated my story summery at the suggestion of a very nice reviewer. I still don't think it's very good (I honestly have _no_ idea how to describe this story) but hopefully it does it more justice now? (Let me know!)

**Warning** - This chapter contains: a NAKED Scout, a SOBER Demoman and STRATEGIC MANOEUVRES.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 – AttackDefend**

The Scout woke up bright and early the next morning, before the base's automated 'wake up' alarms had even sounded. He stretched in bed; it was an epic stretch that travelled from the tips of his fingers all the way down to the ends of his toes. He shuddered with pleasure. _Mmm, dat was niiice!_

Deciding he might as well get up now that he was awake, he pushed himself up into the sitting position and turned sideways, so that his legs were hanging off the edge of the bed. He was average height for his age (he didn't tower above people like the Sniper or the Heavy, but he was by no means 'short', like the Engineer) so his feet _could_ easily touch the floor if he wanted... However, it was cold and his socks were on the other side of the room, so he held his feet up, swinging them side-to-side gently off the edge of the bed.

He sat like that for a moment, staring at his sock drawer, willing for a pair to come flying out for him to catch. After a few more moments of staring, he resigned himself to the fact that it wasn't going to happen and, as he figured he'd have to get up sooner or later anyway, he bit the bullet and jumped down to the floor.

"Ahh!" He hissed. "'S like fuckin' _ice_!" He cursed some more as he reached his chest of drawers, opening the top one and grabbed the first pair of socks he saw. Quickly putting them on, and almost falling over in the process, he flexed and tightened his toes, enjoying the new found warmth they'd been blessed with.

"Mmm..." He almost purred. "Toasty toes! Gotta love it."

Turning around, he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. He did the same with the pyjama bottoms and then his boxer shorts. Standing there in just his socks, he suddenly felt a cold breeze rush over him. Shivering, he quickly hopped over to his wardrobe for some clothes. He flung the door open and threw on one of his many standard-issue RED t-shirts, grabbing the same trousers from the day before. Remembering he was still boxer-less, he jumped back over to the drawers, this time opening the second one down. He grabbed a pair of shorts and shoved them on.

He checked his trousers to make sure they were still clean. He'd only worn them for a day, but it was quite sweaty work running around the Fort, and dirty too, with all the dust from the desert flying around.

"Meh... Dey're fine." He concluded, after giving them a quick shake. He put them on, did his belt up and looked around for his backpack. _Now where da heck did I put it... _He wondered, not seeing it anywhere in the room.

Then, suddenly, he remembered the events from the night before. His failed study attempt, the card-game with the Sniper, and the drunk-as-a-skunk Demoman, who'd been sick everywhere and whom he'd escorted back to his room... _Somehow..._ He shook his head at the memory, half in amusement and half still in disbelief. He still didn't know how one man could get so drunk, and more importantly, _why_ he would.

_Ona work night, too!_ He thought, leaving his room and punching in his door code once he was outside. The door beeped and the Scout tested it to make sure it was locked. It didn't budge, so he went on his way to the Demoman's room. _Not dat anythin' in there's worth stealin'._ He thought to himself as he walked down the corridors. _Still though... Can't be too careful._ He added as he passed the Engineer's room.

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. _What am I thinkin'... 'S like the Sniper said last night: no-one here needs anyone else's money. Dey've all got their own!_ He reassured himself, happier from the thought.

He turned another corner and arrived at the Demoman's room; he was sure he'd taken his bag in there the night before, in an attempt to try and find some bottled water to help his friend sober up. He knocked on the door, but not too hard; he didn't want to cause unnecessary pain to his team-mate, who he assumed was still sleeping through the hangover. When there was no answer however, he knocked again, slightly harder this time_._

"Yo, Demo?.. You a'ite, man?" He asked through the door. He pressed his ear against it to see if he could hear any signs on life coming from inside... Nothing. He looked around, checking the door's electronic panel and saw that the room was locked. He pulled a face.

_Well, what am I s'posed ta do now?_ He wondered, slightly annoyed that he couldn't just go in and get his bag. _Guess I'll jus' havta wait here for a bit..._ He thought, already bored by the idea.

He leaned against the wall by the Demoman's door, sighing impatiently. Before he'd even had a chance to let his mind wander, however, the very man he was looking for came walking round the corner, wet-haired and wearing a towel round his waist.

"Aye, laddie? What're you doin' up so early?" The Demoman asked as he punched his door-code into the keypad. The unlocking beep sounded and he pushed the door open, walking into his room and gesturing for the Scout to follow.

"Yeh lookin' for this?" He asked, going over to the corner of the room and holding up the Scout's backpack.

The Scout was surprised at how coherent and competent the Demoman was acting. _Shouldn' he be like, __**dead**_ _right now?_ He thought, remembering how his team-mate had ended his night by calling the Scout various girl's names and trying to get him into bed with him. Almost being molested by someone on his own team was _not_ something he was expecting to have to deal with when he'd offered to take him back to his room. He'd eventually managed to wriggle free though, and a gentle push had been enough to unbalance the Demoman so that he fell down onto his bed. Luckily, he'd fallen asleep straight away.

"Uhh... Yea', thanks man..." He replied, reaching out to take the bag. As he put it on he began playing with the strap, while contemplating how to ask the Demoman what was going on.

"Umm... Demo, man, not to be funny or nuthin', but... Why the heck aren't you like, dead to da world right now?" He asked carefully; maybe the Demoman didn't even remember getting drunk last night. He was quite happy to keep the evening's details a secret, if his team-mate was; he didn't want to accidentally remind him of his actions if he _had_, in fact, forgotten.

"Whassat?" The Demoman asked absently, picking up clothes, giving them a quick sniff and throwing them back down again.

"Ack, where's me damn _clean_ things..." He asked himself, walking over to his wardrobe.

The Scout followed him, trying to keep his attention.

"Dude, you was _totally_ trashed last night! How are you walkin' about right now? You should be in bed feelin' like death!" He finished, leaning on the wardrobe.

"Oh!.. Hahaha, _that_." The Demoman laughed, pulling a dubiously 'clean' RED t-shirt over his still wet head.

"Heh... So, did ya study your contract las' night then?" He asked, suddenly changing the subject and looking at the Scout, who's expression faltered. He smiled. "Yeh know, like yeh_said_ yeh would?" He finished, winking and turning around to find some trousers.

The Scout cleared his throat awkwardly and stopped leaning on the wardrobe, crossing his arms defensively.

"Well, I uh... Ya know... The, uhh, card-game an' that..." He explained terribly.

The Demoman laughed, obviously amused by the Scout's discomfort.

"Haha, I knew yeh wouldn't look through it. 'S OK, laddie. 'S not the end of the world." He said, putting on some (also questionably 'clean') boxers underneath his towel, letting it fall to the floor once he was done. As he put on his trousers on he explained his situation to the younger man.

"So, there's a Dispenser, righ'? Just down the corridor from here, near the Engie's room?" The Scout mentally tutted, but he didn't interrupt. "Now when I say that thing cures _anythin'_laddie, I mean _aaaaanythin'_..." He paused for a moment, opening his sock drawer and grabbing a pair without looking.

"Well, not actually _everythin'_," he continued. "But most things, ta be fair. So whenever I have a heavy night's drinkin', I just pop in there for a few minutes tha next mornin' and I'm right as rain!" He finished happily, reaching out and clapping the Scout on the arm like he'd done on their mission the day before. The Scout wished he wouldn't do it quite so hard, but didn't want to rub it, in case he seemed weak.

"Oh, right..." He answered. "So... Does da Dispensah, uhh..." He started, unsure of how to finish the question; he didn't want to insult or offend his only real friend here so far. "Does it, like... Cure da, uhh, ya know... Da _lon'-term_ damage..?" He trailed off towards the end.

The Demoman looked up at him, as he sat down to put his socks on and crinkled his face for a moment, before looking down at his feet.

"Hmm," he started, putting the socks on. "Well, I guess so..." He looked up and suddenly smiled; a big, broad smile. "I haven' had any issues yet, and I've been her' a good few years now, so... I guess it does, yea'!"

The Scout wasn't convinced, but he wasn't about to push the topic any further; he hadn't liked the Scottish man's uncharacteristic quietness after he'd asked, so he simply nodded.

"Cool, man." He said quickly. "Well den, I'ma get back to my room. See you at da breifin' yea'?" He asked, already half way out of the room.

"Aye laddie." The Scot answered, oddly quietly. "See ya there..." The Scout saw him turn away, so he left without saying anything else.

_Way ta go, ya freakin_' _**idiot**_. He mentally scorned himself as he walked back in the direction of his room. _Next time why don'tcha just ask him if he remembas any of his pets dyin' when he was younger! Or how his relationship wid his freakin' __**deceased**_ _father was, fa fuck's sake..._

He shook his head and walked straight past his room. He made a quick decision to try not to dwell on it any further; he was going to eat before anyone else was awake, and then wait in the Battle Room for the others to get there.

He'd thought about it after getting back to his room the night before; today he was going to listen to orders, do as he was told and follow his team's plans _all_ the way through. He smirked, motivated by the information he'd gained the day before. _'Sides, it's not like I can really __**die**_ _now, is it?_

* * *

><p>"Woah!" The Scout yelled, dodging a bullet which had whistled straight past his ear. Dat was freakin' <strong>close<strong>... He thought, continuing his run across the open desert ground.

The pre-mission briefing had proved to be quite useful for the Scout today. The Soldier seemed to have actually got it in his head that the Scout wasn't the best man for reconnaissance missions, and would be better put to use heading off the BLU's attacks, while the others could concentrate on holding them back; stopping them from gaining any RED territory or breaking in to steal any of their top secret documents.

The Scout looked up and saw that it was a bright blue sentry that was shooting at him, on a ledge up high. He jumped forward, as far as he could, just before it was able to shoot again. It missed, but was quick to adjust it's position once the Scout was back on solid ground. He veered off sideways to some tunnels and, hiding round a corner, stood for a moment to take a breather. He didn't have his headset yet, so there was no way to contact his team-mates; he'd have to destroy the sentry himself. He peeked round the corner again, to try and figure out how he could reach it, but he was very quickly sent back to hiding, as the sentry was still pointed at his last seen position, just before the entrance, and had started firing as soon as the Scout had come back into it's sights.

_Shit..._ He thought, annoyed. _Dese fuckin' Engies and dey're god-damn __**cheatin'**__ guns..._ He added in frustration, wondering what to do next. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head.

_Maybe I jus' freakin' go for it?_ He contemplated, trying to remember exactly how high up the sentry was based. Could he jump that far in one go? Were there any structures below it that he could use as stepping stones? Would he even be able to avoid the gun-fire long enough to get _close_ to it?

Deciding that he had no choice but to try, he made sure he was as ready as he was going to get; gripping his pistol tightly in one hand and his trusty bat in the other. He yelled loudly as he ran out from his cover and sprinted as fast as he could to the other side of the battlefield. He kept skirting sideways in an attempt to throw the sentry off, and was doing a pretty good job of missing the bullets, when suddenly he heard another war-cry, back from the direction of the RED base.

Making sure to keep the sentry in his scope of vision, he quickly looked at where the sound was coming from, and saw the RED Heavy and Medic running straight ahead, to where the Scout had originally been headed, before he'd been shot at unexpectedly and forced to take cover. He smiled as the gun-fire changed aim to concentrate on the larger, but more resilient, Heavy; this was the Scout's opportunity to get to the machine undetected.

He reached the other side of the open grounds, jumped onto the window-ledge of a small, derelict shack and pulled himself up quickly onto the roof. The ledge the sentry was on was no higher than him now, so, bending down as low as he could, he sprung upwards, propelling himself like a rocket straight onto the ledge above. He smiled wickedly from behind the sentry and, thinking of their own Engineer momentarily, smashed it from above with his bat, pounding it over and over until it was no more than dust.

With the enemy sentry broken beyond all repair, the Scout stood up straight, smiling. He looked over to the Medic and Heavy, giving them a salute and smiling cockily. They both happily saluted back and continued running, passing through a natural archway in the land's formation.

Still grinning, he jumped down from the ledge to the roof, then straight to the floor from there. He landed like a cat; knees bent and well-poised. Not wasting any time, he used his legs to push himself forward, like a professional runner would at the beginning of a race, and chased after the Heavy and Medic. He needed to get back in front of them; there might be BLUs waiting for any REDs to come into sight and he was the only one quick enough to distract them. He flew through the archway and skidded to his right where he saw that his team-mates were already caught in a face-off with at least three BLUs.

The Heavy was taking the bulk of the damage, but the Scout knew he wouldn't last very long without help. Catching the eye of the enemy Scout, who was strafing the Medic and Heavy, circling around them too fast for them to get a good aim on him, he yelled over to him, getting most of the other BLU's attention in the process.

"'Ey, bozo! Ova hea'!" He waved, still running towards the fray. He laughed loudly as the BLU Scout failed to lock his aim onto him, missing over and over as the quicker RED managed to avoid each bullet.

"Haha! Nice shootin' dere, buddy! Think ya missed me, tho'." He mocked, purposely drawing more attention to himself. The other BLUs, while still defending their position against the Heavy and Medic's assault, began directing more fire to the Scout. He saw their Demoman break away from the group to assist the BLU Scout in his attack. The Scout smiled widely.

_Dis is gonna be __**fun**__!_ He thought, now running backwards, watching the two BLUs come towards him.

"You go an' get round the back'a him, boyo!" The BLU Demoman shouted in a strong Welsh accent to the BLU Scout. "I'll take 'im from the front, a'right?"

The Scout, deciding he wasn't going to have any of this, raised his pistol as he continued to run backwards, round the edge of the battlefield. He aimed at the BLU Demoman, as he was the larger target, and shot several times. None of the shots hit; he was out of range.

_Fuck!_ He thought, frustrated. _When's my otha damn gun gettin' here?_ He wondered, turning around so he was facing forward again, trying to figure out what his next move would be.

He looked at his surroundings as he ran away from the two BLUs.

_Maybe I need ta get da high ground?_ He suddenly thought. Taking a quick glance behind him, he decided this was his best bet; the other Scout was gaining on him fast.

_Shit, man! Dis joker's __**quick**__!_ He thought, as he leaped up onto the desert rocks, which had been carved into platforms, encircling the entire BLU battlefield like an arena. He ran along the dirt path, slowly lapping the enemy territory, and saw that the Medic and Heavy were continuing their fight beneath him. He looked behind him, towards the ground, to see where the other Scout and Demoman were. The Demoman had given up the chase and was doubling-back, returning to the other confrontation, but to his astonishment, he saw his BLU counter-part jump up onto the platform, in the same way as he'd just done.

"Aww, what da _fuck_, man!" He shouted to himself, unable to keep his voice down at this speed. He shot behind him another couple of times, but the other Scout seemed just as agile as him, managing to avoid them all with ease.

_Dis is __**bullshit**__!_ He thought angrily; he hadn't accounted for someone with almost equal speed and agility as him when he'd been mentally been planning his attack during the briefing.

If he was going to efficiently defend his employer's land, he was _definitely_ going to have to do something about this guy. Stopping suddenly, skidding a few feet on the dirt as he did so, he turned around and began running back towards the other Scout, a determined smirk on his face. The other Scout looked shocked, confused at what he was doing, but he didn't stop running. The enemy Scout raised his gun (a large double-barrelled, sawn-off shotgun; much like the Force-A-Nature the Scout had been admiring the day before) and shot twice. The Scout jumped, avoiding both bullets and laughed at how easy it was.

"Yea' right! As _if_, knucklehead!" He shouted happily, and he raised his bat, ready for his physical assault. As he got nearer to the other Scout he launched himself in the air, as high as he could go, and he flew right over his head. Grabbing a rock in the wall and using it to spin round, mid-air, he landed right behind the other Scout, ready to attack.

The BLU Scout stopped running, unsure of what had happened. As he was about to turn around and see where his foe was, the RED Scout raised the bat and spoke softy.

"Right hea', _brudda_." He said, before swinging his bat _hard_ round the side of his enemy's head. He heard a loud crack as it made contact with his opponent and the young BLU stumbled, clutching the side of his head, before falling off the ledge and landing on the hard desert ground, dead.

The Scout stood there for a moment, looking down at his enemy's body as blood seeped out of the side of his head. He couldn't help but stare; he wasn't as pleased with himself as he'd thought he would be. Of _course_ he wanted to stop the BLUs, that was the whole point of him being there, but having achieved his first kill (even with his knowledge that it was only temporary) he couldn't help but feel slightly nauseous.

He forced himself to drag his gaze away, remembering what happened the last time he'd felt like this during a battle, and looked around to see if the Medic and Heavy were still OK.

They were still fighting, but it was clear the Heavy was badly hurt and the Medic was trying desperately to heal him, whilst doing his best to keep the BLU Demoman off his own back. The Scout took one more glance at the dead BLU on the floor and jumped down from the platform, making sure not to land on the body. Leaving the corpse there, he ran over to where his team-mates were fighting and started yelling again.

"Hey! Hey, _boyo_!" He shouted at the BLU Demoman, imitating his accent poorly on purpose, in the hopes of provoking him for at least long enough to give the Medic a chance to get him and the Heavy's act together. The BLU turned round, narrowing his eyes at the young Scout.

"Whassat, yeh Southie _bastard_?" He yelled back. "Yeh want summa this?" He shouted, pointing his grenade launcher at the young Bostonian and firing rapidly. The Scout had to work hard to avoid the grenades, though luckily most of them exploded on small rocks, or the used ammo that was already on the floor, before they reached him.

"Hahaha!" He laughed, impressed with the enemy's smack-talk.

"Yea', yea'. Gimmie some!" He shouted back mockingly, heading for the other Scout's dead body, no longer upset by its presence; he needed some ammo and he had no time to go all the way back to the RED base to re-stock, so whatever his BLU counterpart had to offer was going to have to do.

"But I gotta warn ya, man, I ain't no sheep! So, don't expect it to be like what you're used to!" He added, trying to keep his new opponent's attention. He'd had a friend from Wales in his high school and it hadn't been long before all the boys there had cottoned on to the never-ending bestiality jokes. It hadn't been one-sided though; his friend had taken it all in his stride, and had definitely given as good as he'd got. It didn't pay well to be easily offended where the Scout had grown up.

The other man, however, looked furious, and he threw his gun on the floor behind him (the Scout could see he'd run out of grenades) and produced a massive sticky-bomb launcher that the Scout recognised from his own Demomans' weapon store.

_Crap._ He thought, no longer sure if he'd get to the other Scout in time. He ran even faster, determined to win against the brash Welshman, and reached the BLU Scout's body. He threw himself down next to it and immediately began rifling through the other Scout's clothes, desperately trying to find another gun (suddenly remembering his enemy's main one had run out of bullets in their fight) or even just spare pistol bullets to put in his own.

He heard the enemy Demoman's laugh from behind him, but it was getting quieter, not louder. He looked behind him and saw the hefty BLU running away, sticking two fingers up to the Scout behind him.

_What's dis?_ He thought, confused. _Why's he runnin' __**away**__?_

Before he had time to think much else, however, it was already too late; as he turned around to see what was in front of him, he saw the freshly respawned BLU Scout, grinning and pointing his shot-gun right between the RED Scout's eyes; his corpse now disappeared.

"'As if' _yourself_, mudda fucka." He heard, before he was hit with a deafening bang, and then suddenly there was nothing.

Nothing, except blinding white _pain_.

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Just to let you know, the next chapter (which is already half-written) does get a <em>bit<em> heavier, but will hopefully still be readable... I will be getting it finished as soon as possible, so keep an eye out for it if you've been enjoying the story so far!

Also, I've noticed that _every now and again_, the RED Scout seems to say things, or even have thoughts, in _British _slang! I'm not sure how he manages to do this, as he's never been to the UK, but if anyone does come across such an occurrence, please PM me and let me know! I am trying to keep this as authentic as possible, and don't want to offend or annoy anyone (including myself) with inaccuracy!

Pointless fact of the day: It didn't really come across here, but the BLU Scout is from New York. He doesn't feature strongly in the overall story, though, so this isn't really vital information. As an FYI, the REDs are all basically Valve's characters with their backgrounds/appearance, etc, however the BLUs are _not_ clones of them. They're similar though, in the way that one person could have the same/similar features as another person (e.g. blue eyes and brown hair) but not look identical. Also, I didn't chose for the BLU Demoman to be Welsh for any specific reason, I just wanted him to be from the UK and to have some banter with the RED Scout, and an English accent seemed too boring to type (being English myself, I want to broaden my horizons a bit - plus I like a challenge)!

Update 30/04/2012 - I think I've actually had _nightmares_ about the Welsh insults; I don't want anyone to think I actually _believe_ in them! Have changed the wording round a bit and put it more into context for clarification; hopefully the new way works much better. The Scout isn't prejudice against any type of person (as will become more and more apparent as the story progresses), but he _will_ use insults in an attempt to throw his enemies off (much like they all do in the actual game)!

Update 10/05/2012 - I feel the next chapter coming along very soon... Watch this space...


	6. Chapter 6 'Respawn'

**Author's Note:**

Firstly, I would just like to say (again) a **massive **thank you to everyone and anyone who's either reviewed, added this to their story alerts, or even just got this far in reading the story! It's amazing for me to see the hits, and I still can't believe anyone (at all) is enjoying this enough to stick with it this far! Also, I think it's possibly one of the best feelings in the world to have people give you feedback and actually compliment the things that you're the most worried about while writing! I humbly thank each and every one of you, and will try my best to continue to reach your high standards!

Just a couple of things before we go; this chapter (_finally_, we have reached the Respawn chapter!) was originally written as a one-shot. In the same cannon as this story (i.e. Same Scout, same Sniper, etc) but, as it was just me getting a feel for Respawn, it was written in a slightly different style to the previous chapters (which came along after). Slightly more "arty", let's say... If you stick with it, though, it gets more like the usual style towards the end, so you don't have to deal with it for very long!

Also, the chapter itself is quite short, as what's to follow is quite long (I don't think it really works as one huge chapter). However, I am doing my best to get the next parts finished so that I can upload them ASAP!

Thanks again and I hope you enjoy it!

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 - Respawn<strong>

All the Scout could feel was _pain_; all he could see was a searing white light, brighter than anything he could imagine. All he could taste was burning _flesh._

Then, suddenly, he had no flesh. He had no eyes, yet the white still blinded him. He had nothing; no arms, no feet, no face, no body. It was almost like he had _become_ nothing, yet he could still feel. He could still think, somehow, but his thoughts were so disjointed that nothing was making any sense. All he knew for sure was how much he _hurt_.

As he tried not to think of the pain (in the hope of make it all disappear) a flicker of a face appeared in his mind; his mother's. No sooner than the image had appeared, however, was it replaced by the feeling of being ripped apart. Of being pulled and torn, piece by piece, until nothing was left. Every fibre of his being (or 'not-being', as it now seemed the case was) was in agony; he had never known there could _be_ so much pain.

He wanted to pass out. It was his right as a human, his natural reflex to stop this unbearable suffering, but how could he pass out when he wasn't... Anything? Did he even exist any more? He had no idea, and no time to think about it, as a new bout of mind-numbing pain washed over him.

He wanted his body back, so that he could be sick; he wanted to scream and lash out and curl up and die. Then he realised he could hear something. Not the deafening, high-pitched screeching he was hearing moments before, but a scream. A long drawn out _human_ scream. It sounded how he felt. Even amongst his anguish, he concentrated on the scream; if someone was feeling the same way as him, maybe he could help them. Or maybe they could help him? If he was honest, he was desperate for _anything_ (or anyone) to distract him from the crippling stomach-twisting agony he could now feel...

_Wait... How can my __**stomach **__hurt?_ The Scout thought; his sudden ability to have rational thought surprising him. _I don' even __**have **__a stomach any more!_

He lowered his hands to his abdomen and realised he could see his hands... He _had _hands!.. And he could _see _them! Did he have eyes? Why was the screaming getting louder, and why was the pain hurting ever-so-slightly less?

Suddenly feeling a numb kind of cramping in his lower half, he looked down. _Wha-... When did I get __**legs**__?_

No sooner had he acknowledged his legs, that they instantly buckled under him. He crashed down to a floor he didn't know was there, and landed on his hands and knees.

The screaming now sounded like it was coming from right next to him. In fact, he noticed he had a mouth now, and it was open. And he had a throat, and it was sore and hoarse from straining. And actually, he could now _feel_ the screaming in his head; the vibrations making them louder and deeper than before.

Before he knew it, he was in the RED supply room, on all fours, screaming loudly, with no idea of why, or how, he'd got there; the memory of the intense pain in the moments before, fading quickly from his mind.

"-Rnnghhhhhhh..." He gasped, silencing himself as soon as he'd realised that the screaming was coming from him. He was no longer hurting, though his whole body was tingling in a strange way he'd never felt before, almost like the feeling you get moments before getting pins and needles. Feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden, and strangely embarrassed for making so much noise, he started looking around for some kind of clue as to what was going on.

There was no-one there; just him. As he continued looking around, he noticed he actually felt quite... Revitalised. Like he'd just got out of a refreshing shower, or woken up from a good nap. He had his RED uniform on and, just out of reach in front of him, was his bat. His bat...

He suddenly remembered; he had just been in the middle of a battle!.. So then, how had he got here..?

_Wasn't dere... Some... White place? It hurt..?_ He couldn't remember properly... He shook his head and, deciding he'd try to stand, he shakily leaned forward onto his hands and pushed himself up. He stood there, swaying slightly for a couple of moments; he didn't know why, but he felt like he had to get used to his body before he'd be able to control it properly.

_Dis is weird, _he thought as he flexed his arms and leaned slowly to the left and then to the right, stretching his legs. _I could have sworn I'd been like, wiped from existence, or summit?.._ Then suddenly, he remembered the BLU Scout's grinning face, his gun pointed directly at him and the sound of the bang as the trigger was pulled.

_Wait... _Realisation suddenly dawned on him, as all the hazy memories became clear in his mind. _Was... Was __**dat **__respawnin'?..._ He looked around again and realised that he was exactly where him and his team-mates had been before the mission had begun, in the main supply room. In the exact same clothing and with the exact same weapons...

_**Fuck dat shit**__! _He thought furiously, his fists clenching automatically in anger. _Dey can't fuckin' get away with dat! Dat hurt like __**fuckin' hell**__!_

He stomped quickly over to the supply cupboard to try and find something to take his anger out on, but only found a couple of first aid kits and the usual surplus ammo. He stared at the inside of the cupboard for a second before banging the door loudly with his fist.

"Arghh!" He banged it again. "Fuckin' _assholes_!" He shouted at no-one.

"Heh..." He heard a slight chuckle from behind him. He spun around like a flash, fists raised in front of him; his bat still on the floor.

"So... Who gotcha, mate?" It was the Sniper. The Scout lowered his fists, watching as the Sniper moved over to a different supply cupboard to stock up on extra ammo.

"Er..." The Scout answered slowly, still not entirely sure what was going on. "Da BLU Scout... I, uhh... I think."

The Sniper nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything else.

"Hey..." The Scout started uncertainly, wanting answers, but unsure of what to ask, in order to get the right ones. "Uhh, Snipah, man?"

"Mmm?" The other man grunted slightly from the cupboard, now putting extra ammo into the top pocket of his waistcoat.

"Did ya... Ya know, just... Respawn?" The Scout asked, feeling incredibly stupid straight away; this was not a valid question and they both knew it.

"Mmhmm." The Sniper answered, regardless. "That damn BLU Spy's a sneaky bastard. 'Caught me off-guard while I was takin' a leak." He elaborated, pointing over to the wall on his right.

Scout followed the Sniper's gesture and saw a detailed electronic scoreboard on the wall. It showed both team's activities during the match; primarily the details of who'd been killed, how and by whom. The most recent update was the RED Sniper's death. Just before it was the Scouts'; he saw that he had, indeed, been killed by the BLU New Yorker.

"Huh..." He mused, his mind instantly wandering as to what kind of technology was required to make the scoreboard work... He shook his head and stopped himself, mid-thought; that wasn't important right now. He looked over his shoulder at the Sniper, who was now heading out the exit and back into battle.

"Hey! Wait!" The Scout shouted, suddenly panicking.

The Sniper stopped walking and turned to look at the Scout, a questioning look on his face. "Yeah, mate?"

The Scout, instantly feeling foolish, thought he'd better just ask, before he missed the opportunity.

"Did... Does it... _Hurt_? Ya know... Respawnin'... For you?" He looked at the patch of floor right in front of the Sniper's feet, refusing to make eye-contact.

The Sniper cocked his head to the side slightly, as if he was trying to figure the Scout out.

"Yeah, mate." He smiled sadly. "It hurts. Every time."

The Scout kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look at the Sniper, but he nodded slightly in acknowledgement. The Sniper turned round to leave once more but, before he left, he spoke again.

"But it hurts less each time..." He glanced back. "If yeh can keep your mind concentratin' on something... _Good_. Yeh know?.. Then it's not quite as bad."

He left the room without saying anything else, leaving the Scout alone and, if possible, more confused than when he'd got there.

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><p>Less than five minutes later, the Scout was running out of the supply room, chasing after the Sniper. He had tried to digest all the information the older and more experienced man had given him, but his head had started to hurt, and his mind had quickly moved on to planning revenge on the BLU Scout who'd been the one responsible for putting him through the ordeal in the first place.<p>

"Hey! Hey, Snipah!" The Scout yelled, seeing the tall Australian about to climb up some stairs, near the entrance of the battlefield, but still within the RED base.

The Sniper, who had obviously thought his time talking with the young Scout had finished, turned around, confused, and stood there for a moment, waiting for the Bostonian to catch up with him.

"Did'ja need something else, mate?" He asked, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him.

The Scout stopped right in front of the Sniper and smiled widely.

"Yeh. Yeh, I do actually." He continued grinning. "See, I gotta plan for dem no-good BLUs, but... Well, I'm gonna need ya help..?"

The Sniper looked back at the Scout for several seconds, his expression completely unreadable. The Scout wondered for a moment if he'd made a huge mistake in thinking the other man would be interested in teaming up with him. However, no sooner had the thought entered his mind, than a fiendish grin grew slowly on the Sniper's face. As he answered, the Scout could have swore he saw a wicked glimmer in the other man's eyes.

"I'm listenin'..." He said, slyly.

The Scout grinned back at the taller man. _Dis is gonna be __**so **__good..._ He thought, feeling almost sorry for the BLUs...

_Almost_.

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Oo, what does that mischievous Scout have in store for the BLUs, I wonder..? And what role will the Sniper be playing in these plans..?<p>

Stay tuned to find out...

Update 01/06/2012 - I am still alive, and this _is_ still happening! Your patience is greatly appreciated...

Update 14/06/2012 - Heh heh heh... You guys are going to love the next chapter (I hope!)... I'm really hoping to have it up by tonight (GMT) but, if I can't, please don't get mad at me! I know 6 chapters in 4 months is just ridiculous, but I am doing the best I can with this! I don't want it to be forced/rushed and then terrible... I hope you understand! Also, going to try and correct a few errors (grammatical, not story-line based!) from the earlier chapters, as I was re-reading them a couple of days ago and there were a couple of things I noticed that need changing. Thanks again all! Hope to see you in Chapter 7 soon!


	7. Chapter 7 'Domination'

(It's another short chapter, I know, I'm sorry... I hope you enjoy it anyway!)

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 - 'Domination'<strong>

The Scout felt exhilarated; he was running back through the battle-ground, headed for the BLU base once more. The wind was rushing past him and the boost he'd gotten from the respawn process was more than enough to get him up to his top speed.

As he swung round the corner of the same archway as before, he spotted the BLU Engineer working on a Dispenser, near several of his team-mates. They were still fighting the RED Medic, Heavy and now the Demoman, who the Scout assumed must have joined the fight since he'd respawned.

_Perfect._ He thought happily; the BLU Engineer was exactly who he'd wanted to see.

He ran towards the conflict, but kept his new target in his peripheral vision. Once he was close enough to be within earshot, he shouted over to the enemy Engineer, randomly firing a couple of shots from his pistol to ensure he got the other man's full attention.

"Hey! Hey, overalls!" He called, laughing mockingly as his opponent jumped back from the gunfire.

"Haha, yea' you bettah watch out!" He heckled him some more, continuing to fire the odd shot as he ran; he didn't want the BLU's attention to waver. The Scout smiled to himself as he saw the other man move to crouch behind his Dispenser, using it as shielding from the Scout's attack.

"Hey, by da way, man," The Scout continued, now running slightly sideways towards the main fight so that he could face the lone BLU. "I broke your stupid crap back dere! So 'spect some more 'f us REDs any minute now, 'kay?" He finished, trying his hardest to rile the other man, hoping his plan would work.

The Engineer reached out to the ground next to him and picked up his shot-gun. He shot several times at the Scout, but the young Bostonian was too quick for him and he dodged the bullets with ease. Rather than retaliating, however, the Scout simply waved a cheery goodbye to his opponent and turned away from him, now running directly towards the confrontation between the Medic and the others. He wondered if the Engineer would take the bait, but he didn't look back to check; he didn't want him to suspect anything untoward.

As he ran towards the fight, he looked around for the BLU Scout, but couldn't see him anywhere. He did, however, see the BLU Pyro on the sidelines of the battle-field, refuelling his flamethrower, and decided to make him his next target instead.

As he rerouted towards the Pyro he whipped out his bat, returning his pistol to his trousers' waistband, and retrieved a baseball from his bag. He shouted to get his target's attention, realising momentarily that he found it much more satisfying when the enemy was aware of what was about to happen. He wasn't sure what that said about him as a person, but he had no time to dwell on the thought as the Pyro raised his head and began looking around to see where the sound had come from.

"Hey! Hey you, wid da fiyah!" He yelled, throwing the baseball high in the air. "Dis is for our Demo, ya asshole!" He finished, just as the Pyro looked over. He swung the bat back and then forward again with all the force he could muster, hitting the ball incredibly hard as it fell.

He watched as it whizzed through the air and hit the enemy Pyro straight in the forehead. Despite the Scout's taunts, the BLU mercenary had had no time to react, much less defend himself.

The Pyro slumped forward and blood began leaking from the impact wound, but the Scout could only smirk. He didn't care that, right at that moment, the BLU Pyro was going through the same hell as he'd experienced mere minutes before. The masked fire-lover had done the same thing to the Scout's friend the day before, and it hadn't even been an instant death for him; this guy _deserved_ what was coming to him.

He started running towards the BLU, only stopping when he reached his body. Kneeling down, he gave the man a small nudge, but there were no life-signs. The Scout had got him, and got him good. He smiled, picking up his ball and rubbing it against his shirt to get rid of the blood.

"One down..." He murmured to himself, turning around to look at where the BLU Engineer had been, moments before. He grinned when he saw that he wasn't by the Dispenser any more, or anywhere else in sight, for that matter.

Thinking that he needed to act quickly, he looked around to try and find the BLU Scout again. He didn't want this whole plan to end up being a waste of time.

He started running as he searched, not wanting to be a sitting duck for the enemy Sniper, or anyone else who might want to try and catch him off-guard. Suddenly, he saw his BLU counterpart coming out of his base's supply room with the same gun as he'd had before; presumably now fully loaded again.

He couldn't help but smile as the other Scout made eye-contact with him. He gave his enemy the thumbs up, grinned widely, and quickly changed direction. He skidded slightly as he swung around, but regained his footing quickly and began heading back to the no man's land between the two bases. He would have looked back to check that his opponent was following him, but the bullets whistling past his ears were enough to tell him he was. The Scout couldn't believe how well this was all going so far; everything was going according to plan.

The Scout laughed to himself, almost manically as he ran; he was elated on pure adrenaline and, although he wasn't glowing bright red, like the Medic and Heavy had been the day before, he felt completely invincible.

_Wundah if I can get any one else in on dis action..._ He thought, feeling as if he was on a roll. He looked around, but there were no other BLUs near enough for him to get their attention.

_Aww well, dis'll have ta do, I s'pose... _He decided, weaving left and right to avoid the BLU Scout's gun-fire.

As he approached the archway once more, he felt like something about it wasn't quite right. It looked different, but he wasn't sure how. He continued running towards it, assuming it was just his imagination. As he got closer, however, he heard the BLU Scout behind him start to laugh and then suddenly get quieter, as if he was slowing down.

The Scout turned his head and saw that his enemy was now giving _him_ the thumbs up, with an annoyingly cocky smile on his face. He frowned and turned back around, finally seeing what the other Scout was so pleased about. There were BLU sticky-bombs dotted _all _the way around the inside of the archway... The BLU Demoman must have been here and the Scout had fallen right into his trap.

"Aww, fuuuuuuuck!" The Scout yelled as he tried to stop, but he was going too fast; even if he was able to stop in time, he'd still be in range of the explosions. Making what felt like the quickest decision of his life, he leapt as high as he could onto a medium-sized boulder just next to the archway, immediately jumping onto the top of the archway, then he simply threw himself forward, as the multiple explosions erupted underneath him.

Although he'd expected the force from the explosions to be strong, he'd had no idea it would be as bad as it was; he felt like his entire body had been punched all at once, by nothing less than a concrete wall. All the wind was knocked out of him as he was propelled through the air at a great speed, much faster than he'd _ever_ been able to run. He landed a long way from the archway, almost half-way back to the RED base's entrance and, although he'd managed to put his hands out in front of him somehow, his landing was far from painless.

He crashed to the floor, using only his hands and arms to prevent his face from being the first thing to hit the floor. He skidded along the dusty ground for several seconds, before the momentum finally slowed and he came to a grinding halt; face-down and paralysed from the pain.

He laid there, on his front, for several long moments, unable to move, talk or even think properly. As the desert ground below him started to come slowly back into focus, his ability to think also returned and he became more aware of his body. He wasn't sure of the full extent, but his rib-cage alone felt badly bruised, quite possibly broken and there wasn't a part of him that he could think of that wasn't hurting, in one way or another. He struggled to move, thinking he needed to try and get out of the area as soon as possible, but was only able to manage to turn himself onto his back. Every part of him hurt too much; he couldn't bear trying to move again any time soon.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching him. He was in too much pain to be scared, but he wasn't surprised when the BLU Scout and Demoman's faces appeared above him, both smiling, but with a hint of cruel intent. A part of him hoped he would be saved, but the way he felt right at that moment, he wouldn't have even minded being sent back to respawn; he just didn't want these two to be the ones to do it.

The BLU Demoman opened his mouth to say something, but before he got the chance to speak, his eyes suddenly widened and then glazed over, as he stumbled slowly, falling side-ways to his left, out of the Scout's sight. He hit the floor next to him and laid there, still as could be.

The BLU Scout's wicked grin quickly changed into an expression of confusion, and then horror, as he realised that his partner in crime had been shot straight through the head; a precision bullet wound visible through his hair.

The RED Scout managed a weak smile as he saw the BLU finally work out what had happened and gave him a sly wink before a second, silent gun-shot flew straight into the side of the young New Yorker's head. This time, however, the Scout wasn't so fortunate and the enemy fell straight on top of him, causing his whole body to seize up in agony.

"Oww!" He wheezed quietly to himself. _Ya think ya know pain... _He thought disbelievingly, before rolling the other Scout off of him, sighing in exhaustion as the body landed with a thud onto the floor next to him.

He laid there for a few more moments, trying to psych himself up to be able to move; he was determined to get out of there, in case any of the BLUs returned to get their revenge. He shakily laid his hands on the ground at his sides and pushed himself up slowly, trying hard not to move in any way that caused the pain to worsen.

He glanced up at the top row of windows in the RED base. He wasn't sure which one their Sniper was in, but he knew that the plan had been a success, overall; his team-mate, who'd been camped in one of the RED base's rooms, had efficiently finished off all the BLUs that the Scout had either sent or lured there. The Scout would admit that the BLU Demoman's sticky-bombs had been an unexpected obstacle to deal with, but the Scout had survived where both BLUs had died, so he was still going to chalk it up as a victory for the REDs.

The Scout raised his hand to his forehead, using it to block out the glare of the sun and lifted his other hand, giving a feeble thumbs up to his team-mate. He didn't see any movement for a few moments but then, all of a sudden, a smallish package came flying out of one of the windows, landing not too far from where the Scout was sat.

He looked over at the package and then back up to the top floor of the building, still not seeing the Sniper. The Scout assumed he'd was probably already moving on to a new position. Now that the BLU Scout knew what their strategy had been, the Sniper and his position were compromised; they would easily be able to direct the BLU Spy straight to him if they wanted.

The Scout, deciding to find out what the Sniper had thrown to him, shakily turned onto his side and got up onto his hands and knees. He very carefully stood up and wobbled weakly over to the package. As he got nearer to it he saw it was a medium-sized, greenish box with what looked like a white label and red cross on it. He pulled a face, but continued towards it.

_Wha's he throwin' at me... __**Band-aids**__? _The Scout thought cynically, but, as he approached the box, it suddenly disappeared.

"Hey! What da..!" He started to ask out-loud, but was stopped mid-sentence as he suddenly felt an amazing warmth spread through his entire body. He breath hitched involuntarily, as he felt all his aches and pains subside into a mere dull numbness, hardly bothering him at all. He looked down at his bare arms and saw that the cuts and grazes from his crash-landing weren't there any more and he realised he was no longer wobbling as he stood, nor was he wasn't feeling shaky or weak.

He took a couple of deep breathes and smiled at the absence of pain as he did so. The warmth slowly faded, but he was left feeling both healed and calm.

_Now, why can't respawn be more like __**dat**__... _He thought wistfully, remembering how weak and horrible it'd made him feel straight after it happened.

As he walked back to where he'd originally landed, to pick up his bat and gun which he'd lost possession of during his flight, he deciding he'd better get back into the fray with the others as soon as possible. The dead BLU's bodies were no longer on the ground; the Scout assumed they must have respawned already. Remembering how quickly the BLU Scout had returned to kill him the first time, he guessed they would probably all be angry and vengeful, wanting to take their frustrations out on the first REDs they saw; he had to go and help his unsuspecting team-mates.

Before he left the area, he looked briefly back up the window where the box had come from. He knew full well that the Australian man wasn't there any more, but he was incredibly grateful that he'd considered him before he'd left. He thought for a moment that, if all the people he worked with looked after each other this well, maybe this job wasn't going to be so bad after all. Then, thinking suddenly about how he'd already either been killed, or nearly killed, twice that day and that both times the RED Sniper had been there to help him through it, he would have to make sure to thank him after the mission was over.

_In da mean-time, howevah... _He thought to himself as he picked up his pace and started to swing his bat in anticipation. _Dere's still a __**whole**__ buncha BLUs for me ta dominate... And I ain't one ta disappoint! _He finished, laughing to himself as he went. He was eager to put as many of the BLUs as he could on their _own_ electronic score-board before the day was out, and he had plenty of ideas of how he could do so...

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>Oh, that Scout... When will he learn that violence only begets more violence!<p>

In other news, the next chapter should have a bit more of Scout/Sniper goodness (no sex, though... Not _just_ yet... Give it time.)

Also, I am going to try my best not to leave it another _month_ between chapters this time... (I am genuinely sorry about that; I know that's too long to expect people to wait... I've just been so busy recently!) In the mean-time, you could add this to your story-alerts, if you've been enjoying it so far!

As a little teaser (if things go to plan) the next chapter should be called 'Initiation', so... I'll leave you with that and I bid you farewell!

Update 29/06/2012 - So, I think we've all established I'm a filthy lier when it comes to chapter updates and their time-scales... Next chapter is coming along (I promise it is!) but, 'til then: 'MEET THE PYRO' IS OUT! Check it out on the TF2 site or YouTube... It's pretty darn good... Exactly as I imagined the Pyros to be, at any rate. ;) Enjoy it!


	8. Chapter 8 'Initiation'

**Author's Note**

So... I'm not _totally_ happy with this chapter, but I've gone over it (what feels like) a billion times, so I think it's about as good as it's going to get! (Constructive reviews are always welcome!)

Anyway, enough of that: ENJOY!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 – 'Initiation'<strong>

The Scout was whistling happily to himself as he walked through the base's long corridors that same evening; he was still incredibly pleased with his performance during the days' mission, several hours after it had ended.

Since his success in luring the BLUs to the company-neutral middle-ground for the Sniper to pick-off, he'd not only managed to aid his team-mates in helping keep the BLUs at bay (as the mission brief had stated) but he'd also successfully avoided being sent to respawn for the entire rest of the day; an achievement which he valued even higher than when he'd managed to send others there.

He'd made a specific point to keep track of the goings-on around him at one stage and it seemed that at least one person, from either team, was killed on average about once every ten minutes. He'd thought this frequency was ridiculously high (even having to respawn _once _seemed too much to ask of someone) but no-one else had commented on it, so he'd guessed it must be fairly normal here.

The Scout smirked as he thought back to the mission and remembered how the BLUs had tried to gang up on him at one point. Unfortunately for them, he'd been right around the corner from the Heavy at the time and the large, trigger-happy Russian had come to his aid almost instantly; gunning down the group of BLUs in one single sweep of his precious minigun (the affectionately named 'Sacha'; forbidden by the Heavy for anyone to touch, "on pain of certain death"). The Scout rolled his eyes as he remembered the Heavy's "threat" during the briefing; he'd tried very hard to keep a straight face the whole time the huge man had been talking, completely unable to take him seriously. This guy could probably kill a man just by _sitting_ on them, so why was he getting so worked up about a specific gun?

He pondered the possible reasons for a few moments, but his mind slowly wandered back to the end of the mission; the whole battlefield had rang with alarms, signalling that both teams cease their fire. It had been a stalemate which (whilst not being ideal) _had _meant that, even though they they hadn't won, the REDs had not lost any valuable land to the BLUs. The Scout had also gained a lot of experience from this one battle alone; more-so than mere training could ever have prepared him for.

He'd achieved quite a few kills during the mission, but not as many as quickly, as when he'd teamed up with the Sniper. He tutted to himself slightly as he remembered the Engineer commenting on how most of them had only been "assisted" kills, as the Sniper had been the one to finish most of them off. The Scout had dismissed the comment, saying at least he'd killed the Pyro using only a bat and a ball, rather than relying on a machine to do the job for him. At this point the Demoman had asked loudly about dinner, as "he was starving" and had steered the Scout away from the seething Texan.

The Scout chuckled, recalling the look on his face. He was so easily aggravated by the Scout; it didn't seem like he could do anything right in his eyes. Because of this, the Scout had decided to give as good as he got, while still not letting the other man get to him. He was quite sure that, if a fight did ever break out between them, he would be able to take him. The Engineer was a lot larger than the young Bostonian, but the younger RED had a few tricks up his sleeve in case it ever came to it; he hadn't lived his whole life with seven older brothers without learning a thing or two when it came to fighting. Mostly he ran, mainly because it was easier and he was good at it, but, when he _did_ have to fight, he always gave it his all.

He turned the next corner still whistling, when suddenly two masked men, dressed in the the RED uniform, jumped out in front of him; one putting their hands over the young Scout's mouth, stopping any objections being heard and the other pinning back his arms and digging their elbows into the Scout's back, pushing him to the ground in the process.

As the Scout fell to his knees he caught a gimps of the first assailant's scuffed, brown boots and recognised them instantly from the supply closet; they belonged to the Engineer. He thought quickly and bit hard on the hand that was covering his mouth. The masked RED yelled, swearing at the Scout and pushing his head down to the floor.

"Wha' da FUCK do ya think you're doin', ya fuckin' _hillbilly_?" The Scout spat angrily, face now pressed painfully against the ground.

"Hehehe..." The Engineer chuckled deeply, a hint of sadistic pleasure almost audible in his laugh. "Now, now, _kid_... No need to resort to name callin'..." He said, removing his mask and releasing the Scout's head, allowing him to move it freely. The second man was still holding the Scout down from behind, his knees now digging into his back and his large hands pinning his arms down.

The Scout raised his head as soon as the Engineer had let go of him and looked around wildly. There were now definitely more than just the two men involved in... Whatever this was. The Scout could see several pairs of feet in front of him, their red trousers or shirts making them all recognisable as his team-mates.

"Wha-" The Scout wheezed, feeling the air being squeezed out of him, as the pressure of the man sitting on him started to overwhelm him. "What... Da fuck... _Is_ dis..?" He gasped as he started to go light-headed.

"Would yah... Get da _FUCK_ offa me, yah fat sack of crap!" He managed to shout out, in a final bid to gain some control over the situation.

He heard laughter and the weight on his back lifted slightly. He took the opportunity to breathe in deeply, desperate to figure out, not only _what_ was happening, but how he could escape from it. He groaned as the weight on his back shifted, causing his hip-bones to dig painfully into the cold, hard floor.

"Leetle man needs to learn his manners..." Said a deep voice behind him. The Scout's heart filled with fear; if the Heavy was in on this, he'd have _no_ chance of getting away. He had no weapons, no escape route and there were too many of them now to simply push past, if he did somehow manage to get free. He gulped as he tried to figure out what his next move could be.

"Hey, uh... Hey, I didn't mean dat, big-guy..." He babbled, hoping to gain some sympathy from the Heavy. "Yous jus' caught me by surprise, is all..."

"Heh. Well that was the idea, laddie!" He heard from in front of him. He quickly looked up in shock, to see his supposed friend, the maskless Demoman, now kneeling in front of him, grinning widely.

"Demo?.. What da fuck is dis, man? Wha's goin' on?" He asked, trying hard not to think about the odd, twisting feeling he'd got in his chest when he'd first seen him; knowing that his one, real friend in this place was in on the whole thing.

The Demoman didn't answer, but he gave the Scout a quick wink. The Scout didn't know if the wink was supposed to be reassuring or simply taunting. He watched as the Scottish man stood up and left the Scout's line of vision for a moment; while he was gone he tried to figure out who else was there... There were a pair of big, black boots, who he assumed must be the Pyros' and a pair of brown, pointed shoes who he thought might have been the Snipers'.

_Damn... Da Snipah too?.. _He thought unhappily to himself. _Man, I am __**so**__ screwed..._

He'd thought that if he was going to be ambushed by anyone in the team, it would have been the Engineer... Possibly with the Soldier, as back-up. He'd have had a fighting chance were it just those two there, but evidently more people were out to get him than he'd thought.

Not knowing what it was he'd supposed to have done, he quickly started to try and think of a happy place in his mind; somewhere where he might not feel as much pain, once they started with whatever it was they had planned, when suddenly the Demoman re-appeared and kneeled down in front of him once more, brandishing what looked like...

_An electric razor..? What da..._ The Scout thought, confused.

He looked the Demoman in his good eye and was taken aback when he saw a small spark there. The other man winked again and handed the razor to the Sniper behind him. The Scout watched as the Sniper swapped places with the Demoman. Bending down in front of the Scout he, whilst remaining completely blank-faced, turned the razor on and brought it towards the Scout's head with no explanation of what he was doing.

"HEY!" The Scout shouted in indignation as the razor got closer. "Hey! What da fuck're you doin'?.." He asked angrily but his objections were met with only the silence of the men and the buzzing of the razor. The Scout tried again.

"_Ansah me!_" He yelled, violently twisting his head one way and then the other to throw the Sniper off.

"Oi, mate." The Sniper started, grabbing the Scout surprisingly roughly by his hair, stilling him. "If you keep goin' at it like that, you won't have _anythin'_ left. You got that?" He warned, looking the Scout directly in the eyes and showing no signs of backing down.

The Scout gulped again, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. His cocky charm had worked on the Sniper before, during their card-game and he was hoping it would again.

"Fine!" He replied, suddenly realising that if all they were going to do was cut his hair, things weren't going to go as badly as he'd initially thought. Thought he still wasn't happy about it.

"But... Don't get rid of too much, yea'?" He asked, still trying to wriggle free from the Heavy's death-grip. "Kinda proud'a my hair, ya know?" He finished matter-of-factly. It was a lie, but he didn't want the REDs to get their way completely; he didn't want them to think he'd been totally beat.

The Sniper couldn't help hold back a small smile. He suppressed it quickly, but not before the Scout had seen.

"A'right, mate... I'll leave some... _If_-" He started, giving the same warning look as before. "If, yah _stop moving_." He finished, holding the razor up and looking around at his team-mates. They must have nodded in approval because the Sniper nodded back at them, before lowering the razor again to the Scout's head, finally letting him go with his other hand.

The Scout remained still, looking at the floor. His neck was tired and he couldn't be bothered to hold his head up any more, now that he knew what was being done to him. He felt the razor press against the sides of his head, buzzing loudly and spurring the REDs on as they each offered the Sniper encouragement and their own ideas of what style they thought the Scout should have.

_Actually,_ he thought, lifting his head slightly as the Sniper started on the hairline around his face. _I __could prob'ly use a hair-cut by now..._ He contemplated. He was actually getting quite comfy now, as the Heavy eased off of him more and more, knowing that he'd given up trying to struggle free.

_Ma usually does it, after all... An' seein' as how she ain't here... _He continued to himself, instantly suppressing the home-sick feeling he started to get whenever he thought about his mother; it certainly wouldn't do for his team-mates to realise how much he missed her, and his home in general. He had a feeling his fellow assassins wouldn't have too much sympathy for a boy who missed his "muma"; they probably would _genuinely_ attack him then, just to prove a point that he wasn't cut out for this job.

He went to shake these thoughts out of his head, but stopped when he remembered where he was. The Sniper seemed to be nearly finished, now neatening up areas he'd already done. The Scout looked up slowly and saw the Sniper concentrating hard on the last little bit. The older man pushed the Scout's head back down dismissively, re-doing the same bit again. Finally, he stopped, turned the shaver off and stood up.

"There ya go, mate." He said, pleased with his work. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" He mocked slightly, giving the razor back to the Demoman who gave it a shake, put it back in it's case and then extended his hand out in front of him, offering to help the Scout up.

The Heavy let go of the Scout's arms and stood up, chuckling lightly; briefly putting a lot more pressure on the Scout's back, but then lifting from it completely. The Scout winced as the pressure increased, but sighed in relief once the huge Russian man was finally off of him. He reached out to take the Demoman's hand; unsure if he'd be able to stand without the help.

As he stood, he brushed himself down; hundreds of his own tiny hairs all over his t-shirt. He looked around as he ran his hands through his newly-cut hair and saw that everyone from RED was there, thought most of them seemed to have lost interest, now that the deed was done.

The Scout caught the Engineer's eye for a split-second and saw him smirking at his new look, before turning away and talking to the Soldier about something the Scout had no interest in; rations and the next shipment of food and beer, or something equally dull. The Sniper was already walking away, towards the common room and the Demoman had a huge grin on his face, much to the Scout's annoyance. He knew it could have been a lot worse, had the REDs been so inclined, but he still didn't appreciate the treatment and wondered why they couldn't have just asked if he'd wanted to do this.

He saw the REDs disperse as they talked amongst themselves, most of them heading down the same corridor as the Sniper, on their way to the common room, but the Demoman clapped his arm around the Scout's shoulder and started walking with him, slowly following the others. The Scout grumbled slightly to himself, half-hoping the Demoman wouldn't hear.

"Whassat, laddie?" The older man asked loudly, still amused by the Scout's obvious indignation as they went. The Scout looked at him annoyed, but decided to answer truthfully.

"What da fuck was dat all about, man? Why didn't you warn me about dat shit?" He asked quietly, not wanting the Engineer to over-hear. The Demoman laughed again but, to the Scout's surprise, gave his shoulders a small, comforting squeeze.

"Haha. Tha' was yer initiation, boy! Why? Yeh nae had that done before?" He asked, amused at the Scout's naïvety. The Scout shook his head; he'd never been in higher education, so he'd never been in a fraternity and none of his previous jobs had indulged in behaviour like this. The Demoman merely smiled.

"'T means yer one of us now! Yer a true member of tha team." He said happily, presumably under the impression that this would make the Scout feel better about the whole thing.

It didn't, but the Scout felt bad in telling the Demoman where to go; he was still the closest thing he had to a friend there and he didn't want to loose that connection over something as trivial as a forced hair-cut.

The Scout forced a laugh and patted the Demoman on the back in, what he hoped, was a heartily fashion, as they walked.

"Aight man, dat's cool..." He replied, trying not to think about how much his hips still hurt, instead deciding to find out what his hair looked like now.

"Hey, man..." He started, again speaking in a hushed voice which he hoped only the Scot could hear. "Does it... Uhh... Does it look OK?" He asked, embarrassed by his apparent vanity. The Demoman looked at him and smiled broadly.

"Aye! It does, yeh know. Tha Sniper's pretty good at stuff like this. I usually get him to trim my 'fro when it gets too unruly!" He laughed loudly, clearly finding his own joke quite hilarious.

The Scout frowned, but at that moment they passed a window. The Scout slowed down, as did the Demoman, who was still attached to him by the arm, and he squinted at his reflection. It was dark outside but light in the base, so the reflection was quite clear, and he could see that the Demoman was right. The Sniper had done a very neat job on his hair, leaving a long, thick strip running right down the middle of his head. He had given him a mohawk. The Scout grinned as he turned his head to view the new style at different angles; it _did_ look good.

The Scout nodded happily at his mirror-self, before setting off again, indicating to the Demoman that everything was fine. He wasn't going to say it, but he actually really liked this style and had always wanted it, but his mother had never let him have it, saying it would make him look too much like a "rebel punk". His mother didn't care herself, but felt it would hinder him in finding any good jobs and, as he'd always known how important it was to their family that they all worked whenever they could, he'd never gone against her wishes.

_Fuck you, Engie... _He thought happily to himself as they reached the common room. He was given a beer by the Medic, who had shown the least interest in the initiation the whole time they'd been there. _Even when ya think you're winning, I end out on top... An' I always will!_ He finished his imaginary telling-off of the man, taking a large gulp of the beer and then wiped his mouth clean.

He looked around and saw the Sniper sitting at the circular table, shuffling a deck of cards. He walked over to the table, deciding it was time for round two and he was going to show the Sniper who was the boss when it was just the two of them, one-on-one. As the Sniper looked up and acknowledged his joining in of the game, the Scout grinned wickedly. It was pay-back time and he was going to show the Sniper as little mercy in the card-game as the REDs had collectively shown him in the moments before...

**-End Chapter-**

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><p>So, the Scout's mohawk (mohican for the Brits!) was really inspired by a few different artists on DeviantART, but mainly a user called tupuchan... If you use dA, my user-name's MissAeris, so if you fancy a bit of yaoi-y goodness, check out my favourite's folder. Lots of Scout/Sniper in there! (None of it mine, though! dA's kinda terrible for uploading text, so I pretty much gave up on trying to keep this story up-to-date there...)

I haven't got _as_ clear an idea as I usually do for the next chapter, so I can't give you a title yet, but I will be working on it (and then uploading it) as soon as possible! Thanks again to anyone who's sticking with this! It's greatly appreciated.

Update 13/07/2012 - I just wanted to say, if you're a new reader (or a returning/continuous reader) I would genuinely _love_ to hear what you think about the story so far! For example, are there any specific aspects you love (or hate) about maybe, the story-line, the writing-style or even the characters, etc? (Remember to be gentle if it's negative... Constructive critisism is _always_ welcome, however!)

And thanks again to all those who've managed to actually get to this point! You have no idea how much it means to me that you're, not only able to get past the first chapter, but are sticking with it, more than 25k words in! (And a _mega _thank you to anyone who's ever reviewed this story! Every review I've got has really made me smile, so thank you all!)

ps This isn't a beg for reviews, I promise! The fact that you've actually read up to this point, and are reading this now, is _more_ than enough for me! (I just want to know if I'm doing something blatently wrong, or if it's all right and I should stop worrying and just get on with it!)

Thanks again everyone. You're great!

Update 24/07/2012 - I am now almost 99.99999% sure the next chapter is going to be called (take a deep breath, it's a long one): 'First Visit To The Sniper's Van'...

I still need to iron out the details, but I hope to get it to you as soon as! Thank you for reading and stay tuned...


	9. Chapter 9 'First Visit'

**Chapter Warning: **This chapter contains non-graphic sexual content. Consider yourself duly warned!

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 – 'First Visit To The Sniper's Van'<strong>

"Yo, wouldja hurry up with that freakin' lock?" The Scout asked impatiently, his hands pressed tightly underneath his armpits. "Freakin' freezin' out hea'..."

The Sniper tutted in annoyance as he finally got the door of his van unlocked. It swung open and he indicated for the Scout to go in.

"Quit yer whinin' an' jus' get in." He answered, following the Scout inside, closing the door behind them both.

The Scout looked around at the Sniper's home-away-from-home for the first time. The Australian man didn't sleep in the base like the rest of the REDs; he had a small camper van on company grounds. The Scout had been with RED for almost a month now and he had noticed that if the Sniper wasn't in battle, the common room or the dining area, he would be in his van.

As he looked around, the Scout tried hard not to make fun of how small it was; he was shorter than the other man, but even he had to lean down slightly, so as not to hit his head on the roof. As he stood there awkwardly (looking around for somewhere to sit, but not finding anywhere) he realised that there very little space to move at all and he wondered why the Sniper spent _any_ time there, rather than in the spacious room RED had provided him with.

Snapping him out of his train of thought, the Sniper indicated that he needed to get past, so the younger of the two backed up against the inside wall, allowing the other man to get to his bed (which the Scout noticed was _tiny_ and pushed up against the opposite wall). As the Scout watched, he wondered if the other man's gangly legs hung off the end of the bed while he slept. Thinking that they probably did, he found himself having to bite his tongue to stop from making a joke about it; he was here because the Sniper had offered to help him and he didn't want his colleague to get annoyed and throw him out, especially back into the bitterly cold desert night.

The Scout watched as the Sniper leant forward onto his bed and reached around it, underneath the foot-end. He produced a tattered shoe-box and wordlessly handed it to the Scout, picking up a book once he'd done so and he laid back down on the bed. The Scout leant more comfortably on the wall behind him and opened the box, grinning as soon as he saw it's contents.

"Snipah, you ol' dawg, you!" He said happily, rifling through the box. He suddenly realised exactly what had been making him feel so restless recently and, more importantly, what he'd been needing to make that feeling go away.

The box was full of X-Rated magazines; at least 20 of them, the Scout guessed at a glance. They were squashed slightly, because of the size of the shoe-box, but were all in quite good condition and some were even dated fairly recently.

"Hey, how come dis one's from las' month?" The Scout asked, holding up a magazine which had two nude women on the front; both of them had their modesties hidden by several, superimposed star-shapes. "I thought ya said you'd been hea' for ages?" He added, now studying the cover intensely. The Sniper didn't look up and continued to read his book, seemingly indifferent to whatever his house-guest did, now that he'd delivered the goods to him.

"Hmm?" He asked absently, clearly not interested in the Scout's investigations.

"Dese mags, they're recent. How long you say you've been here?" The Scout asked again, finally putting the magazine down on the counter next to him and picking up the next one, in order to inspect it, too.

"Oh, me? Yeah, ages mate." The older man answered unhelpfully. The Scout was now too busy to notice the vagueness of the reply, but the Sniper continued talking anyway. "Me dad sends me this kind of stuff every now an' again... Dunno what's goin' through his head, to be honest. Every time I call 'im, I tell 'm I've got plenty, not to bother with sendin' any more, but 'e still does..." He turned the page he was on. "Prolly tryin' to keep me sane or summit. Thinks I'll go a bit 'funny' here with no women around, I guess." He finished, finally going back to his reading.

"Mmm," The Scout murmured, acknowledging he'd heard the other man, but he didn't ask any more questions. Not until he reached a magazine that caught him off-guard, causing him to almost drop the shoe-box in shock.

"Woah! Dude, what da_.._?" He started, unable to hold his surprise in. He held up the magazine in question so that the Sniper could see it, but, when the other man didn't even look up, he spoke again, making sure this time to finish his question. "Hey, man... Didja know _dis_ was in hea'?"

The Sniper looked up slowly and saw the Scout holding up one of the magazines, but there were no nude women on the cover of this one; only men. The Australian smirked at the Scout's (almost comical) overly-exaggerated expression and calmly went back to his book.

"Yep." He answered simply, refusing to divulge any more information to the younger man. He made a point of turning another page of the book, but his eyes no longer moved across it's pages. The Scout hadn't noticed this though; he was too busy looking incredulously from the male-only magazine in his hand, to the man on the bed and back to the magazine again.

"I mean... Wha-... _Why_?" The Scout couldn't think of what to say; he was still too shocked to be in any way tactful.

The Sniper let out a small, exasperated sigh and lowered his book so that he could look at his, now increasingly bothersome, house-guest properly.

"I ent gay, alright?" He said, matter-of-factly. "Jes calm down, will ya..."

The Scout continued to look at the magazine, wondering if he dared open it to see what it was like inside. He looked at the men on the cover; several toned, tanned men, completely void of body-hair, who weren't shy about posing buck-naked, laid practically on top of each other in various compromising positions. The Scout wrinkled his face as the thought of how this got to be in Sniper's collection confused him for a second time.

"But..." He started again, feeling a little more in control of his words this time. "But, I thought you said your dad sent you these?"

The Sniper nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything.

"Well..." The Scout continued, determined to get a definitive answer from the other man. "Why would he send you this if you ain't... Ya know..?" The young Bostonian finished awkwardly, finally tearing his eyes from the cover to look at the Australian man; he wanted to _see_ his response, as well as hear it.

The Sniper sighed for the second time that evening and laid his book down onto his chest, seemingly resigned to the fact that the Scout wasn't going to give up. He didn't, however, answer the question when he spoke.

"Scout." He said, suddenly making uncomfortable eye-contact with the boy, holding the gaze for several long seconds. Finally he spoke again.

"...Would ya please jes' pick one of those..." He nodded towards the magazine in the Scout's hand. "And then leave me in peace." He finished bluntly, finally breaking his gaze and returning, one final time, to his book. The Scout stared at him for a moment, wondering whether he should press him for a proper answer, but he felt like he might have somehow already crossed the line, even though he hadn't meant to.

Suddenly feeling like a loose part (rather than his former role as a welcomed guest) the Scout slowly nodded to himself, put the magazine back into the box and picked up the very first one he'd looked at, which was still on the side, where he'd left it. He put the lid back on the box and silently put it on the counter, patting the lid slightly, so that the Sniper knew it was there.

He turned to leave, uttering a brief, "Thanks, man", before he left the van in a hurry, causing the door to slam loudly behind him. He cringed at the sound and wondered briefly if he should turn back and close the door properly, but a second later he heard the click of the lock; the Sniper must have got up and done it himself.

Feeling slightly guilty, but still unsure why, the Scout jogged through the base's corridors, on the way back to his room. Although the Sniper had denied any implications the rouge magazine might have had, all the Scout could think about was _why_ it was in the Sniper's collection. Surely if his dad had sent it to him (for whatever reason) the Sniper could have just thrown it away? Why then had he kept it?

He wondered if his team-mate had actually read it? Or even _enjoyed_ it? The Scout's face automatically wrinkled at the idea; it wasn't really his business, but he couldn't imagine someone like the Sniper enjoying something like that. In truth, he couldn't really imagine the Australian enjoying _anything_; from what the Scout had seen of his team-mate so far, he seemed like quite a closed-book. He didn't seem to have any hobbies or interests... Apart from shooting people with his precision rifle at long-range, of course, but that didn't count; that was his job and he had to do it.

The Scout's mind continued to wander as he neared his room. Was the other man telling the truth that his father had just sent the magazine to him, rather than it being something he'd requested specifically..? It wasn't that the Bostonian was being judgemental, or that he thought the Sniper _shouldn't_ have something like that here; he just wanted to _know_.

Back in his room the Scout made double-sure his door was locked after firmly closing it behind him. He swiftly laid on his bed, opened the magazine to a random page and routinely put his hand down the front of his pants, looking forward to distracting his whirling mind and finally relieving some of his built-up tension.

As he looked at the pictures and tried to stay focused on the task at hand, he found himself desperately trying to ignore the fact that, even as he climaxed, it was the thought of another_ man _(and said man's reasons for owning a male-only pornographic magazine) that were in his mind; not the women that were laid bare in front of him in the borrowed magazine.

He tried to convince himself that, as his thoughts of the other man hadn't actually been sexual, it didn't mean anything weird and he shouldn't be concerned. Despite his own reassurances, he couldn't shake off the feeling that it wasn't normal for a straight man, like himself, to be thinking of anything _but_ women during such an intimate moment, even if he was the only one physically involved in the act.

_Why'm I even thinkin' about dis..? I know I ain't gay! _He thought as he turned off the light and laid back down on his soft bed, covering himself with the sheets. _'Sides, __**he's**__ the one who had that mag in the first place... I ain't the one with da issues hea'._ He thought, slightly happier with the situation. Finally finishing his internal conversation, he closed his eyes in an attempt to try to fall asleep and tried not to think about it anymore.

He tried really, _really_ hard.

**-End Chapter-**

* * *

><p>There was no proper author's note at the beginning (except for the warning) because I couldn't even bring myself to try and make excuses for why it's been so long between chapters! I have no excuse except a severe lack of inspiration, which I think has finally passed (for now) so hopefully the next chapter won't take too long!<p>

Just so you know, the next chapter is called "Payload"... Oh yes. Action, action, action! (...And then probably some more action, just to be on the safe side...)

Let me know what you thought of this one! (Apart from the last few paragraphs, which I'm still tweaking very slightly!)

**Update 15/07/2013 -** Holy Crappamoley people, it's been... Well, you know how long it's been!

Whilst I feel bad for neglecting the story, I am pleased to tell you I have finally figured out what the hell is happening with it! In related news, I've changed the title of the next chapter to "Play Ball!" (and yes, there will be a shower scene)! :D


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